Something Beautiful
by Neel-anjana
Summary: Bonnie Bennett, born to a slave woman and a Navy Captain, grows up in a gentleman's house, according to her status as a lady and heiress, fighting for love and respect and battling age old prejudices along the way. On Hiatus now.
1. Chapter 1

**This piece was inspired by a Youtube video of the trailer of the Amma Asante film** _ **Belle**_ **with Bonnie Bennett as the protagonist. I thought it was a brilliant premise for a story and tried finding one. As far as I know, one does not exist and so I thought I'd try writing it myself. A massive thanks for inspiration to** _ **sunshinedesi,**_ **the creator of this video, without whom this story would not exist. I hope they do not mind. This story will not follow the events of the film, since the setting, the locations, the timings are all different. I just thought the basic premise of a white girl and a black girl being brought up as sisters would lend itself well to the characters of this show. I do not own either** _ **Belle**_ **or** _ **The Vampire Diaries.**_ **All credits go to the writers and producers.**

 **Chapter 1**

She was born on the night of the worst storm Barbados had seen in ten years. The world first viewed her in a flash of lightning that lit up the inside of the little hut and her strong, lusty wails competed with the roar of thunder. Nature raged and shrieked outside the fragile walls as the exhausted young mother took her trembling, screaming infant into her arms. Old Maria, standing beside her as Abigail took her first look at her daughter, hastily crossed herself and muttered to herself, taking in the child's unusually pale skin. Thus, did Bonnie Elizabeth Bennett arrive into the world, accompanied by the crash of thunder and murmurs of _Devil_ and _child of sin_.

She spent the first few years of her life following behind her mother as she worked in the fields and hiding behind her skirts to escape the cruel taunts of _half-breed_ and _devil-spawn. S_ he faced her very first experience of loss and abandonment at the tender age of four, cuddled into the side of a dying Abby, hearing for the first time why she was different and strange and alien, that every child had a father and so did she but hers was _white,_ and it was he that would take her away and care for her now. And as Abby closed her eyes for the last time four hours later and slipped quietly away, the other women gazed in puzzlement at this strange, silent child that neither wept nor screamed but lay without words on her mother's bed, clasping the rapidly cooling body with her little hands and ignored every effort at comfort.

X

"What is your name, child?"

She curls her fingers tighter around the skirts of her ragged dress and blinks at the man in front of her. He smiles at her, and the action causes slight crinkles around eyes the same shade of bright green as hers. She backs away.

"It's Bonnie, sir", Agatha informs the smartly dressed young soldier, as Bonnie still refuses to speak.

"Bonnie, you need not fear me. I will take care of you. I have come to take you away to a better life, where you will be comfortable and happy and have everything you want."

"I want Mamma." The words are barely a whisper in a raw, hoarse voice. The tiny bottom lip trembles and she would have cried had she any more tears left to cry. But she is tired of crying. She is just _so_ tired and something hurts inside her chest and she wants her Mamma to open her eyes again and kiss the pain away like she always did. She rubs at her chest, hoping it will feel better but all that happens is that it makes Agatha turn away and wipe her eyes on her apron. Her hand falls away again at her side and twists the grey fabric of her dress.

"Bonnie, your mamma had to go away. She could not stay anymore. But this nice man will take care of you. He is your papa, see?"Agatha tries to explain. But Bonnie does not see. Bonnie does not know what a papa is. She has never had a papa. And this man with his fine clothes and pale skin seems like he is from another world. How could he understand her, look after her, love her? His voice brings her attention to him once again.

"Bonnie, I know it hurts. I lost my mamma too when I was a little older than you. I want to make it better. Will you allow me to try? I know you have never seen me before, you have no reason to trust me but I just want to make sure you are safe and happy. Let me do that for you, my daughter," Captain Finn Bennett smiles again and holds out a hand towards her. And Bonnie closes her eyes and takes a leap of faith, stepping forward to put a small hand inside her father's big, rough one.

X

Asleep against her father's arm, Bonnie is jerked awake when the carriage rolls to a stop in front of a massive mansion, painted a warm, clean, pale yellow. She looks around in bewilderment and awe at the many man servants bustling around the carriage and front doors, busy with large trunks and boxes. She shrinks closer to her father's side once he lifts her out and clutches her little shawl and rag-doll closer. Noticing the looks in the servants' eyes as they look at her, she lifts her chin higher in a desperate show of bravery.

It is a show that falters, when standing before the lord and lady of the manner. Elijah Bennett, her father's elder brother, seems stern and forbidding and while Jennifer Bennett, known to all as Jenna, is a kind woman, at sight of Bonnie her welcoming smile shrinks and is replaced by a worried countenance. Bonnie simply wants to _hidehidehide,_ to run back to her tiny, familiar home and back into her mother's arms, to be embraced by that warm, comforting scent that she misses _so_ dearly. Her eyes burn and she drops her gaze to the rich, embroidered carpet as she makes a determined effort not to cry in front of these people. Her heart screams as it protests that her father lied, that he will break his promise to take care of her, that she will not be _happy_ or _safe_ in this echoing mansion.

"You did not find it necessary to inform us of the colour of the girl's skin, Finn?" Mr. Bennett's tone is no less stern than his face. "Had we known, we might have saved you this journey."

"Brother, I ask only that you give her what is due to her as my daughter and your niece. If I were at liberty to look after her myself, I would not ask this. But, I am to be called away for service again soon and I _cannot_ keep her. It is simply impossible."

"What you ask of us is no less impossible, Captain," interjected Jenna. "I sympathise with your plight and that of the girl, but you must keep in mind the position of your brother and the family."

"We must also take into consideration our other niece. Caroline can ill-afford a companion such as this child," Elijah added.

"What would you have me do, Elijah? Will you not help me? Will you condemn my daughter to a life of servitude for the misfortune of her skin colour? You know all I am asking is that you do the right thing."

Jenna looks down at the little girl in her faded old dress and shawl. She observes the sweet heart-shaped face, the large emerald eyes, the full lips tilted upwards at the ends and the thick, tight curls. She takes in the young shoulders slumping under sorrow and loss, the thin small frame tightly curled around itself as if protecting itself from the world, the head drooping in a submissive bow and suddenly surprises herself and everybody else by holding out her hands.

"Come here, dear," her voice is soft, as if speaking to a frightened animal. She accompanies the gentle words with a smile.

Bonnie raises her head, apprehension and hope chasing each other across her face. The sound of a gentle, motherly voice soothes the pain in her aching chest for a while. She peers at Mrs. Bennett and looks up at her father. Taking his encouraging nod as a sign, she creeps across the floor to the beautiful lady and hesitantly comes to a stop in front of her. As Jenna raises her hand to brush a few strands of hair away from the child's forehead, Bonnie is almost swamped by homesickness and longing. She closes her eyes, tilting forwards towards the touch and Jenna melts. She looks up towards the Captain.

"What is she to be called then?"

"Her name is Bonnie. It is fitting, is it not? So, she shall be called Bonnie Elizabeth Bennett. She shall take my name and everyone will know she is a daughter of the house."

X

The new child is a silent presence in the house. Once Mrs. Bennett has the housekeeper take her up to the nursery, she curls up near the foot of her bed and refuses to speak or eat. The inhabitants of the house are yet to hear the sound of her voice. Caroline Forbes, Jenna's sister's daughter, who also lives at the Bennett House is away on a visit to her grandmother and thus, there is nobody to draw Bonnie out. On the occasion of her father's departure, she leaves the nursery to bid farewell to him. She stands in front of the large double doors of the mansion and watches his carriage drive away until it is out of sight, with tearless eyes, before returning to her room. When Jenna goes up to her room, later that evening, she sits up to face the lady of the house but utters not a word. Her little rag-doll, made by her mother for her second birthday is clutched tightly in her hands. At intervals she rubs the woollen thing over her face, it still holds remnants of the scents of her home, the rough material a memory of her mother's work-worn hands.

"Do you think perhaps the child _cannot_ speak?" Jenna questions her husband, anxiously.

Elijah shakes his head. "She can speak well enough. Bonnie is mourning. Within a few days, she has lost all that she knew, her mother, friends, home. I trust once she has had time to settle down here, she will grow comfortable with us. Caroline's presence will help perhaps."

"Now we have two girls to care for, where once we lost hope of any," Jenna gives a rather tremulous smile. "It is true Caroline was in sore need of a companion. Perhaps that is what we can say when people ask questions." Even as she says this, she frowns, the idea not sitting well with her. The thought of the poor, mourning child upstairs breaks her heart. She is such a defenceless little thing. To pass her off as no more than a lady's companion seems treachery of the highest order. And yet what is there to do? The situation is an impossible one. Anxieties about rumours, gossip, ill-hearted mockery and derision float around her head.

"No. Her father has made it quite clear. She is a daughter of the house and shall be brought up as such, with every comfort and respect her birth accords her. People will talk and much of it will be ill-natured. It cannot be helped. However, she is family and we must help her weather all storms. Bonnie is a Bennett.

x-x

 **That's really all I have till now. I have no idea where this story is going or even if it is going anywhere. If anyone would like to read more, please let me know if you think it's worth continuing. Thank you so much for reading. If you leave a review it would be most appreciated. Hope you enjoyed it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The number of reviews and people following this story, was rather a surprise. Thank you to everyone who showed their support. Let's get started on the new chapter immediately.**

 **Chapter 2**

Bonnie is very far from being a timid girl. She had always been considered fearless, recklessly so by adults who knew her. She climbed to the highest branches of the trees on the plantation, she raced with boys and girls older than her and always always _always_ stood up after a fall. And yet, now, sitting in her pristine room in the strange house her father has abandoned her in, she feels fear crawling up her lungs, her throat, threatening to choke her. She cannot move, cannot go down and face the people who took her in with such obvious reluctance, cannot raise her eyes to meet those of the nursemaid, whose skin is the same colour as hers. She knows her uncle and aunt are debating what to do with her. She knows what the servants are whispering about her, she is one of _them,_ she should be down in the kitchen. Not in this bedroom that is five times the size of the little hut she shared with her mother. She wants to run away but she has no one to run to, she wants to cry but the tears refuse to come, she wants to _scream_ but she is voiceless. And so, she gives herself up to silence, to inaction, to lifelessness. She lets the nursemaid and the housekeeper and the dressmaker who comes in the next morning, move her around like a life sized doll as inside her chest helpless shrieks build up, crying to be let out.

She has been taken out into the lawns today, sat down on a soft blanket and left to her own devices. There is another little girl watching her curiously, before running off to smell the flowers and dancing around the large open space. Bonnie assumes this is Caroline. Caroline, with her fair skin and golden locks, who caused no furore or outrage when she came to the Bennett household. Caroline, who did not receive perplexed looks from servants unsure about whether to treat her as a lady or not. Lovely, golden Caroline. And then Caroline dances up to Bonnie, takes her little hands and pulls her up off the blanket to run around the large oak. Their dresses flap around their ankles, an alien sensation for Bonnie, as used to as she is to the shorter garments she typically wore. She trips, careening into Caroline and they both tumble to the ground. Immediately leaping to her feet, Bonnie glances at her apprehensively, certain the tentative friendship is over. But Caroline only giggles, smiling brightly with eyes and lips and slightly crooked teeth and she startles a shy smile out of Bonnie in turn.

"Are you going to be my sister now?" questions Caroline softly, as if whispering a secret. "I asked my mamma for a sister but mamma died before she could give me one. Please say yes. We can play together and you can share my toys and my dresses and we will love each other _forever._ "

And so begins the healing of a hurt, tired, sorrowful little child as she realises she too wants a sister, that this beautiful, fair girl who looks so different from Bonnie herself also hides under her bright smiles a heart aching for her mother and a lost home, that she is no longer alone and maybe her father did not abandon her among strangers but rather gifted her a _sister._

" _Yes,"_ Bonnie said, with another shy smile. "I _would_ like to be your sister."

X

Elijah was a good employer. He did not own slaves himself. Those owned by his father, had been freed within the year of his death. He tried to be just and fair and took pride in looking after the welfare of those black house-servants who had remained in his employ even after being granted their freedom. But he was by no means free of bone-deep prejudices. And thus the presence of Bonnie in his household was a worrying matter. Underneath the stern facade lived a compassionate, honourable man and the sight of the beaten-down, sorrowing little girl had touched his heart but how could he be expected to bring up a black girl as the cousin and equal of his other niece? How could he expect the people of a small town in central Virginia to accept what would be seen by them as a disgrace? How would he _protect_ her after his death? To whose care could he entrust a gently-bred, dark-skinned young heiress after he was gone? He knew his brother. Finn could be trusted to provide for her monetarily but Elijah would not count on him to leave his beloved Navy to care for a child. Heaven alone knew, with his reckless, slightly suicidal tendencies, how long he would grace the Earth. This was a thought that would come back to haunt him at a later date.

"She smiled," his wife's voice broke into his thoughts. He looks over at where she stands near the long glass windows, overlooking the side lawns. Looking down, he is pleasantly surprised to find that Caroline has managed to break through Bonnie's apathetic mood of the last few days. Truly, the little girl has cracked a soft smile as they sit on the ground, facing each other, oblivious to impending grass stains on their pretty new dresses. As he and Jenna watch, they rise to their feet and chase each other around the white oak tree and the musical sound of childish laughs reach their ears through the open window as they run and tussle and roll in the grass.

"She is going to be so beautiful," Jenna sighs, and although this applies to both children, Elijah realises it is Bonnie that is on her mind now, Bonnie who has been on both their minds since they set eyes on her. "What will we do for her? We will not be around forever. What straits shall she fall into then?"

Even after all these years of marriage, Elijah finds it a surprise how often their minds dwell on the same thoughts, the same ideas. He shakes his head helplessly. This is not a question he has the answer to.

"What about marriage?" The question was barely a shaky exhale.

"That will be absolutely impossible. What her rank deserves, her skin colour will not induce. And any matches she might make due to her... _unique..._ complexion, will not be befitting to a daughter of our family. I will do what I can to protect her but, Jenna, I do not know what is to come. I am very much afraid that we cannot save her from the cruelty of the world."

"We will do what we can and trust that she possesses the gift of strength. This is a fight she alone can win."

X

It was a fight that was to begin very soon indeed, from within the walls of the nursery itself. The first battle starts when Mary, one of the white nursery maids smacks Bonnie for disobedience. The tale is carried to Jenna by Caroline. When confronted, Mary refuses to wait on a girl who should, "by rights be eating in the kitchen, Ma'am". Relegated to the scullery, she carries tales to town, where rumours of 'the illegitimate Bennett brat' begin flying around long before anybody has set eyes on Bonnie.

The girls' governess, Miss Reynolds is first reprimanded and then dismissed when Jenna and Elijah find out that Bonnie eats bread and butter in a corner during tea-time in the nursery, while Caroline is offered cake and jam-rolls by the fireside. Miss Josette Parker, who replaces her, much to her sorrow, finds a deeply mistrusting little girl in one of her young charges. Over long months of patient care and effort she manages to steadily draw Bonnie out of her shell and slowly builds up a firm, trusting relationship with her. The day Bonnie brings her a little bouquet of wildflowers, of her own volition, is considered a great victory.

Caroline and Bonnie come home from a run around the estate one day, scratched, torn up and bleeding. Caroline is tearful, Bonnie defiant. A group of village boys ambushed them near the end of the estate, pelting Bonnie with pebbles. When Caroline jumped in front of her _sister_ to protect her, they finally ran off. It is then that Elijah realises it is necessary for the girls to learn to protect themselves and each other. Despite his apprehensions about what people might say and act and behave, this blatant cruelty from a group of ten year olds shakes up the entire household. He engages a fencing and shooting instructor for them. Alaric Saltzman, newly come to Mystic Falls, realises the gravity of the situation immediately and begins to teach the girls, not only to fence and shoot, but also several techniques in which they can use their smaller bodies and quick reflexes to emerge triumphant in a hand-to-hand fight.

Thus, the peculiar circumstances of their situation, results in a rather eclectic upbringing for Bonnie and Caroline. They go through their daily schedules together, always inseparable. Side by side they learn to shoot and to waltz, needle-work and arithmetic, geography and poetry, philosophy and music. More importantly, they learn how to be sisters, learn to share, learn from each other. Caroline teaches Bonnie how to laugh and dance and clap her hands in joy again, Bonnie teaches Caroline how to twirl, to slide down banisters, to climb trees. They learn to creep into each others' beds at night and whisper secrets till sleep overcomes them. They learn to sneak away to the pantry during lessons and steal Cook's freshly baked pies and cookies. They learn to ride, to fall off, to get up and brush each other off and climb atop the horse once again. Caroline learns that Bonnie is different and precious and vulnerable and that she always needs her sister at her shoulder, even though Bonnie has the courage to face the world alone. And so she stands there, always at her side. Bonnie learns that Caroline always covers up heartbreak with determined smiles and a bossy manner and so she allows herself to be bossed when the latter is particularly upset.

They become the other's rock, protector and confidante and when the world stares to see them arm in arm, they pretend not to notice the incredulous eyes and pursed lips. If Jenna worries and cossets, they smile off her concerns. And when Elijah summons Bonnie into his office to give her the news that she is now an orphan, eleven months after her arrival in his house, it is Caroline into whose arms she runs first.

X

"Caro?" the murmur is almost inaudible, as Bonnie finally raises her face from her damp pillow.

"Hmm?" Caroline has been upset and it is _such_ a relief to hear Bonnie's voice again. She does not understand why Bonnie is so upset. True, she will never see her father again but she has no particular affection for him. She has only met the Captain the once and although she merits a mention in his letters from time to time, Caroline still sees no reason for the quiet sobs wept into the pillow, half of the afternoon.

"Do you think they will send me away now? Uncle and Aunt only kept me because my papa made them."

This is something that has not crossed Caroline's mind. The thought of there coming a day when Bonnie is not with her is too laughable to be conceived. Of course Bonnie will continue to live in the Bennett mansion, it is her _home._

"Certainly not," she says indignantly. "How can they send you away? Where will they send you away? This is your home! I am going to ask Uncle Elijah right now!" And Caroline rises from the bed. "If they send you somewhere, I am going too."

"No, Caro. Stop!" Bonnie runs after her best friend who is in the process of marching down the stairs to their uncle's study. "Caro, do not ask that of Uncle. He will be angry!" And then she groans as she notices that the study doors have been opened and Caroline is already inside, making demands in a loud voice.

X

Elijah is not angry. He is heart-broken. He is ashamed. Bonnie still does not realise her importance. Her place in the family. Somehow, somewhere, he and Jenna have made a mistake. They have failed to show her that they care. A firm request sends Caroline out of the room. This is a matter he must speak about with Bonnie alone. He observes her quietly for a few minutes, looking almost as lost and miserable as the first day she was brought to him, her fingers twisted together, eyes on the ground. Bonnie's heart is beating frantically and she braces herself to have her worst fears confirmed. While her Uncle has been nothing but kind to her during her stay, in his own firm way, she sincerely believes that it was for her father's sake alone that he took her in. That first conversation, the horror in Jenna's eyes when she first set eyes on her, their reluctant resignation to duty is not something she has been able to forget, despite all the happiness she has found in this house over the course of the last year. Once again, Bonnie feels herself to be that homeless child without a mother, and now, without father too.

"Bonnie, come here," he requests, his tone gentle. Once she stands before him, he reaches out to place his hands on her slight shoulders. "Why do you fear this thing? Do you not know that you are our daughter, Jenna's and mine, even were your father not my brother? You do us an injustice to believe we would turn you out of the house, Bonnie."

"I know you did not want me here." It is something she has never voiced out loud in front of anyone, but one that has plagued her often.

"And that was a grave mistake on our part. It is my shame and I must carry it for all of eternity that I placed my position and the expectations of society over you, Bonnie. But not anymore. Not ever again. Do not hold such fears in your heart, daughter. As long as you choose to live here, this is your home."

"I know my papa is dead," she begins hesitantly. "I did not know him. Caroline says he was not a real papa to me. But...but, she tells me about her papa and I would like one too. Do you think...could you be my papa?" she finished with heart-wrenching innocence and hopefulness. Elijah swallows and blinks rapidly, before he can answer.

"Yes, Bonnie. I would like to be your papa. And I know you had your own mamma and you have treasured memories of her, but I think Jenna would like to be a mamma to you too, if you would let her. Not to replace your own, but in a different way. Do you think you could allow the both of us this very great privilege?"

Bonnie blinks up at him. Once. Then twice. And then she bursts into a wide smile and nods slightly, and rather hesitantly closes the space between them to find her place in her papa's arms.

x-x

 **Since I received requests to continue this story, I have decided to do so. Thank you, again, to everybody who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one as well. I am not thrilled with how this chapter turned out but when I started writing this is what came out. If you think the story feels too rushed, do let me know. Before anybody protests, I know that nineteenth century women would not typically be taught how to fight but it** _ **is**_ **Bonnie and Caroline! I thought that with these characters in mind, it would not be totally unbelievable. I tried to stay as true to the period setting and the language as I could, but if I have overlooked any anachronisms and inaccuracies, please forgive me. See you next week, hopefully. And I** _ **think**_ **we might be meeting a character a few of you have been really looking forward to, God help me with that.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, the number of reviews for the last chapter was absolutely overwhelming. Thank you for that. A few of you asked about their ages. I mentioned Bonnie's age in the very first section but if you didn't catch it, she was four at the time of her mother's death, five over the course of the last chapter and seven in this one. Caroline and Stefan are the same age as her, give or take a few months and Damon is ten.**

 **As for the setting, it is about the early 1840s at this point. I know the Vampire Diaries Wiki says Damon was born in 1839 but in order for Abby to** _ **be**_ **a slave in the West Indies at the time of her death, I had to shift the dates around a bit. (In Barbados, slavery was abolished in 1834. Abby was technically one of the indentured labourers when this story starts, in 1838, but their conditions were possibly worse than those of the slaves.) Please bear in mind that I am not from North America and have never visited. Should there be any historical mistakes, despite my research, it would be most appreciated if you pointed it out, in a civil manner. Same applies to any other area you feel I am going wrong in. Constructive criticism is always welcome.**

 **Hope that made sense and answered some of your questions. Let's continue with the story. This chapter provides a little comic relief after the last two heavy chapters.**

 **Chapter 3**

"Bonnie," Caroline hisses. "Uncle Elijah will not be happy about this! Do you not remember, he forbade us from venturing out of sight of the house by ourselves?"

"What Papa does not know will not hurt him," Bonnie assures her. "Come, Caroline. Quickly. Do you not want to know why so many carriages have been driving up to the abandoned estate?"

"I _do_ want to know," Caro retorts. "I was distracted thinking about it yesterday, and Miss Parker made me do my sums over again. My curiosity makes me itch. But I would not like for you to get hurt again."

"The village boys may have been up there once. It does not mean they will be again. It might be there are new people come to town. That has not happened in all the three years that I have lived here. This is an occasion!" Bonnie giggles.

The two girls, having stolen away from the schoolroom again, something that becomes increasingly simple to do as their two tutors get more interested in each other, stealthily creep behind a little copse of trees, and once safely out of sight of the windows of the house, break into a full sprint in the direction of the estate adjoining theirs. There has been considerable activity around the old, abandoned house and the two girls, eaten up by curiosity as to why, found it impossible to wait more than a week before deciding to investigate.

As they near the other estate, their full-out pelt must slow down. And as Caroline takes the lead, moving forward to peer around the trees that block the sight of the house, Bonnie is distracted by the sound of something whistling past her right ear.

"That was deliberate," comes a cocky voice from somewhere above their heads. "The next time, I will not miss."

X

Bonnie does not like the new boy. She does not like his stupid smirk, or his stupid silver-blue eyes or his stupid dark hair. She does not like the cocky sound of his voice or the carelessly graceful manner with which he holds himself. She does not like that although he is simply three years older than her, he makes her feel like a little child. And most of all she does not like that he looks at her and not Caroline. That unnerves her, makes her restless and uncertain. Because _all_ boys look at Caro while they sneer at Bonnie. It hurts. It stings. But, it is what she is used to. So why does _he_ look at her so straight, why does he smile at her as if that is normal? Her skin prickles and she rubs at her exposed arms, suppressing a shiver.

Caroline, being Caroline, knows all about the new arrivals within a few moments. Bonnie's mind is simply stuck on the fact that his name is Damon, _Damon_ and that is simply the most beautiful name she has ever heard in this town full of Matthews and Georges and Williams and how unfortunate it is that it should belong to this boy that _she does not like!_

"And what of your companion? Can she not speak?" Bonnie hears and suddenly becomes aware of the fact that she is the current topic of discussion between the two.

"Certainly she can," Caro giggles. "This is my cousin, Bonnie Bennett."

"Miss Bennett, do you find my face offensive to your sensibilities?" asks the rogue, observing her deep frown. "I do not feel I have done anything to deserve such a look of disgust."

"No, nothing at all," she smiles sweetly. "However, it does take me some time to befriend those who send projectiles at my head."

"Bonnie!" Caroline seems scandalised by her rude behaviour but what does she expect? He almost took her head off! Had the coward been on the ground and not hiding up a tree, Bonnie would have shown him she was not the sort of girl who went crying to her mother. Why, a well-aimed fist to his nose would have sent off the big bully, weeping, to _his!_

"My father does not take well to trespassers," Damon's smile is tight. What is the matter with her? Can she not see he is trying to be nice to her? He likes her spirit and the sound of her laugh and the way she ran up the hill absolutely devoid of self-consciousness. He would like to make friends but why must she be so aloof, so judgmental? "Had he been here, it would have been a pistol shot, not a pebble." He likes the way she glares at him. It breaks through the untouchable facade and shows him a glimpse of her true feelings.

He has heard about her. Having moved to this small town but a week prior, he _has_ heard about her. The strange, black, little heiress whom the Bennetts treat as their daughter and against whom, none in that household will hear an insult. Insults are still whispered, laughed out, screamed and shouted as enraged, neglected wives ask of their husbands if they will bring home their own Bonnie Bennett for her to raise one day and mothers warn their children against playing out in the bright sunshine, under threat of becoming exactly like 'the Bennett girl'. He has heard that she is a witch, one that has enchanted the entire Bennett household.

He has heard of her. And now, he sees her. Nothing more than a little girl. A brave, fearless girl with a chin tilted upwards to add to her miniscule height. With flashing eyes and unruly locks, upturned nose and a mouth that seems to perpetually smile. All rumours, all cruel tales, all idle talk left behind on the wayside, Damon Salvatore falls willingly under her spell.

And as Bonnie grabs Caroline's hand and stalks away, back towards the Bennett Mansion, determination gleams in those striking eyes. He _shall_ win her over. Bonnie Bennett _shall_ befriend him, of her own volition, even if it be his last effort on this Earth.

X

"Unmannerly wretch. Rogue. Dog. Bas...ba...Bastard!" cries Bonnie, fuming as she pulls Caroline along behind her.

"Bonnie!" the latter gasps in shock. "If Miss Parker were to hear you, she would cane us both!"

"Did you not hear him, Caroline? He said I should be shot. Why, he is more monstrous than those boys from the village! I suppose he thought me a slave and was infuriated I dared to mock him. His father surely owns slaves, I could tell by seeing the son."

"But Bonnie, he never said any of those things. You were being unpleasant to him. I am sure he did not think any of the things you are ascribing to him. And you know certain people really are strict about trespassing. He may have only been speaking the truth about his father."

" _I_ was unpleasant!" Bonnie shrieks indignantly. "His look, his tone, _all_ of him was offensive."

"That is not true. He was being perfectly gentlemanly to us. He seemed to actually like you. _You_ were frowning at him as if he were a toad."

Bonnie's childish reply to this remark is to pull Caroline's hair. Caroline responds by smacking the back of her head. This rapidly escalates. In a minute, the girls are engaged in a brawl in the back yard, behind the stables and have to be pulled away from each other crying and screaming, by Mister Saltzman and Jim, the stable-hand.

Jenna questions the two girls and tries to get them to make up their differences. Bonnie and Caroline sit on opposite ends of the large drawing room and ignore both her and each other. When Elijah tries his hand at finding out the source of the trouble, they stare at the floor mutinously and keep silent. Not once, not even at the height of her fury does Caroline reveal that Bonnie instigated a trip to the neighbouring estate. Bonnie keeps quiet about Caroline's conversation with a stranger. Furious as they are with each other, deliberately getting the other into trouble is not in their natures.

Bonnie realises she acted badly. She knows Caroline is right and she is being unjust to the new boy. He did not _really_ hurt her. In fact, what bothers her most about him is that he was friendly, he attempted to soften her with humour, to get on her good side. She is not used to such behaviour from most of the local children and it took her aback and she reacted inappropriately and rudely. But, she _cannot_ be the first one to break down and apologise.

Caroline is sorry that she argued with Bonnie. It is the one principle above all others she always holds herself too. _Nobody_ comes before Bonnie, she takes no one's side as opposed to her sister. That they should be fighting, and that too over the silly actions of a strange boy, is, in Caroline's eyes a tragedy. However, now it has become a matter of personal pride. She is determined she will not be the first one to break the frigid state of affairs.

Two days later, they are playing duets side by side on the piano stool and curl up together in one bed for the night, all quarrels forgotten. Jenna, Elijah and Miss Parker heave great sighs of relief. Their encounter with Damon Salvatore remains a secret.

X

"Do not lean so far over into the water, Bonnie. You will fall in," cautions Miss Parker, seated on the bank of the stream that cuts across the northern-most point of the Bennett estate. "Bonnie! Are you listening to me?"

"But, Miss Parker, how can I paint this scene if I cannot properly see the shadows the boulders cast in the water? Do not worry, I will not fall in."

"What are you painting?" comes an interested voice from right above her head.

With a shriek, Bonnie tumbles straight into the water.

Sitting in the middle of the narrow, pebbly stream she looks up at the overhang above the left bank. A boy is scrambling down to help her, greatly alarmed and apologetic about the mishap he has caused. On the opposite bank, Caro and Miss Parker are on their feet, gaping down at the scene. The boy jumps down into the water, holding out his hands to help her climb to her feet. Bonnie grimaces down at her heavy, sodden skirt before glaring up at the boy. He seems to be about the same age as her, with soft brown hair and mossy green eyes set in a pale face.

"I am so sorry, Miss. _Do_ forgive me, it was not my intention to scare you," he apologises in a rapid flood of words. "If you will allow me, I will escort you to the other bank."

"I do not need help!" Bonnie is scornful. "Who _are_ you?"

" _Stefan!"_ comes a voice from the trees, beyond the overhang. "Where in _damnation_ are you?" Bonnie closes her eyes in horror. And a moment later, Damon Salvatore emerges into the open. He looks down at them with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, then addresses his brother, "What have you done now?"

X

"Miss Bennett, I would like to apologise on behalf of my brother. He, of course, will do so as well. I _do_ hope that you will listen to him as much as you _did not_ listen to me last week."

"I suggest you take yourself and your brother back to your own house, Mister Salvatore. My father, while more _humane_ than yours, is no fonder of trespassers."

"What is this?" Miss Parker interjects. "Bonnie, am I to believe you have met this young gentleman before?"

"Indeed Ma'am," Damon turns to her with a charming smile. "I mistook Miss Bennett for a trespasser on my father's property and mistakenly shot at her whereupon she took offence and left before I could make my apologies."

"You _shot_ her?" Stefan, standing beside his big brother, is horrified.

"Shot _at_ her," Damon corrects him with a frown. "Only with the slingshot."

"That does not make it better, Brother," Stefan cries out. "Miss Bennett, I am appalled by my brother's behaviour to you and all the more shamed by my conduct today. We have not behaved well with you. Please, please do forgive us. As neighbours and perhaps, friends, I would hate for there to be discord between us."

"Certainly, we forgive everything," Caroline breaks in, unable to sit quiet anymore. "Bonnie does not hold grudges. Are you collecting pebbles? I can show you the best ones, a little upstream from here. They _shine!"_ She takes his cloth bag from him and peers inside, beginning to walk off. "These ones are nice. The green one is very pretty. I have a pink one that is prettier. Come, it is this way. Bonnie and I found this place a year ago. The pebbles are like _jewels."_ As Stefan follows her, a little dazed, Miss Parker interrupts.

"Caroline dear, we must get home. Bonnie is wet, she will catch cold."

"Oh nonsense, Miss Parker. We swim here, in our camisoles, all the time. Let her sit in the sunshine. She will soon warm up."

"Caroline, stop shouting out 'camisoles' in front of the boys," moaned Miss Parker. "I mean...Oh, where are you going? Bonnie, stay here. Do not move. Mister Salvatore, if you would be so kind as to remain with her," she says as paces away after Caroline, barely seeing Damon's nod.

X

Bonnie, seated on the grass, her skirts spread out all around her, glances at Damon out of the corner of her eyes. And although she _does not like him_ she must admit he is an extremely handsome boy, especially with the way the sunlight catches his eyes, seeming to transform them to silver and the slightly curled ends of his raven-black hair. He turns his head and smiles at her. It is an honest, sincere smile and not his usual wicked smirk. Immediately, all thoughts of his beauty recede into the background and she narrows her eyes at him.

He sighs. "Miss Bennett, could you perhaps tell me what exactly I have done that offends you so. If it was the pebble I slung in your direction, then _I am sorry._ It was a foolish decision and I cannot say what prompted it. I do irrational things at times, without thinking."

"Was it because of my skin colour? Because I am different? Do you intend to pull such a trick again? Let me tell you, I am far from defencele..."

" _No!"_ Damon cuts her off. "I simply...well, I wanted your attention and I chose the silliest way of attracting it. I would like to be your friend, truly. That is all, Miss Bennett."

Bonnie studies him steadily. He seems absolutely, uncharacteristically open and genuine at this moment. She cracks a hesitant smile. "Well then, perhaps you can help me. I think I dropped my hair ribbon in the water. Will you help me try and find it?"

He returns her smile with a brilliant one of his own. He knows this is only the first step. She does not trust him and he has not proven himself worthy of it yet. But he helps her look for her ribbon and accepts it for the olive branch it is. And when he finds the blue scrap of fabric trapped under one of the little boulders and hands her the soaking cloth, the quirk of her lips as she takes it out of his hands is worth _so_ much more than the greatest of praises bestowed on him by his tutor, than Cook's apple pie, than his father's extremely rare smiles.

x-x

 **Thank God that's over. This chapter was such a challenge for me. I was so apprehensive about writing Damon. I love him, but I cannot identify with him. I was so afraid my Damon would not be true to character. Please, let me know in the comments section how you think I have fared.**

 **And no, this is** _ **not**_ **the beginning of any romances. I am** _ **not**_ **having them fall in love at the ages of seven and ten. Damon is intrigued by Bonnie, who is nothing like anyone he has ever come into contact with before. He is lonely and longing for friendship and approval, insecure about his standing with his father and in Bonnie, without knowing much of her story, he simply senses a kindred spirit. Bonnie is interested in this boy who treats her differently than the village boys but she does not trust him or even like him very much at the moment. They are on a slow path now that might eventually evolve into friendship.**

 **I know I said I'd see you next week but the large number of reviews got me so excited I was motivated into writing more. Don't expect the next update anytime soon though. So far, I had a rough idea on how I wanted to proceed. Now, I'm struggling in the dark. Any suggestions, anybody? I've got a basic sketch of an outline for when they're grown up but I want to spend a few more chapters on their growing up years.**

 **Please leave a review if you enjoyed it. Thank you for your continued support.**


	4. Chapter 4

**To all my readers, so sorry for the long wait. Tests, papers, vacations and life in general got in the way. Thank you so much for all the reviews on the last chapter. The response was overwhelming. I might be slightly unblocked now. Let's start the new chapter.**

 **Chapter 4**

Elijah is not terribly pleased with his wards' newly discovered friends. Salvatore, he asserts, Senior Salvatore, that is, is a small time Italian tradesman who has suddenly and quickly come by a great sum of money. His sons, who are no doubt hardly educated or cultured are most inappropriate companions for his nieces. Not to mention, the Salvatores own slaves. Bonnie, especially, should be kept away from the boys.

"But Uncle Elijah, what their father does is not their fault," Caroline protests. "Damon and Stefan are very friendly and helpful and courteous."

"Miss Parker tells me that the elder Master Salvatore shot at your sister with a slingshot. That does not sound either courteous or helpful to me. Indeed, it seems behaviour of the coarsest sort."

"We were trespassing," Bonnie speaks up on his behalf suddenly, to Caroline's shock. "He did not hurt me. And he apologised profusely. I do not believe they are ill-mannered, Papa."

"Bonnie, I am simply looking out for the safety of you two. I do not believe these boys will make good companions for you. And I would appreciate it if you would obey me and not associate with them. You have already broken one rule of this house."

Jenna interrupts at this point, "You realise we are only doing this for your own good, do you not, girls? I do not know about the Salvatore boys and I would not like to judge them before having met them or their parents..." she shoots her husband a look. "But the rule about your venturing outside the estate without an adult exists because we do not want you to get hurt."

"Momma," Bonnie touches her long sleeve. "Damon and Stefan Salvatore are not bad people. They would make good friends."

Jenna draws her adaptive daughter closer into the circle of her arm with a smile and presses a kiss to the top of her curly head. "I believe you, dear. Papa is just trying to be cautious. Now go on, go have your dinner."

X

"I thought you did not like Damon Salvatore, Bonnie."

The girls are both curled up in Bonnie's bed, their hair spread out on a single pillow, the golden and ebony curls mingling together on the snow-white linen, arms hooked around each other's, gazing up at the ceiling. It is late and Miss Parker will probably scold them the next morning for waking up late and being late for breakfast but for the two sisters, these are some of their most precious moments as they share their thoughts, their feelings, their giggles under the cover of their bedroom's benevolent darkness.

"I do not," Bonnie huffs. "But I do not like Papa's reason for forbidding us to play with them either. He does it because they are Italian and their father is a tradesman. It is not right to be judged for being who you are. Damon asked me for another chance. And I promised it to him."

"I truly believe Uncle thinks he is protecting us, Bonnie. Especially you."

"I do not need Papa to protect me from _everything and everybody,"_ is the childish response. "I can look after myself. And I would like some friends."

"I am your friend!" exclaims Caroline in high indignation.

"No, you are my sister. You are better than a friend. But still, it would be a nice feeling to have someone _choose_ to be friends with me."

Caroline, in all her young wisdom, realises this is an insecurity, a fear she cannot dispel easily. She simply pulls herself closer and throws her arms around her _sister,_ cuddling so close Bonnie can barely breathe. And the serious mood is broken with a round of laughs as Bonnie suffocates on a pile of gold hair, while at the same time attempting to push Caroline's tight arms off her midriff.

X

"You are doing it wrong," the bush behind her exclaims in a piercing whisper. Caroline leaps a half foot into the air and Bonnie whirls around on her heels. Two shaggy heads emerge from the foliage, one raven black and the other, light brown.

"What are you doing here?" Caroline casts an anxious look in the direction of the stables, where Mister Saltzman had disappeared. "Uncle Elijah will not be happy to see you here!"

"Should you be using those all by yourselves?" Damon eyes the pistols in their hands. "You might hurt yourselves or each other, the way you are going. You have to allow for the recoil," he adds in a patronising tone.

"I am," Bonnie is furious at his tone. "My aim is perfect!" She insists, pointing at the target, with its centre riddled with holes.

"I was speaking to Miss Forbes," the rascal smirks. "You cannot have my attention _all the time!"_ Bonnie's enraged expression tickles him and he smiles even wider in her direction. But this is quickly replaced by a frown the moment she pulls herself together, inhales deeply and arranges her expression into one of utter calmness. He _hates_ it when she does that, draws in so deeply into herself he feels that he cannot reach her, cannot break down her walls even with a battering ram. She makes him feel so inadequate, like he is unworthy of being called a friend.

"Caroline is right," she starts. "You should not be here."

"Is our company so repulsive to you then?"

"No, Mister Salvatore," Bonnie sighs. "But Papa..."

"Call me Damon."

"Damon...Stefan..." she breaks off, with a questioning look at his brother. Stefan nods at her amicably. "Our guardian was not very happy about our meeting you..." She looks at Caroline for help.

"Well, it is just that Bonnie's meeting with both of you was under unfortunate circumstances. And Uncle Elijah is very protective about Bonnie. He feels that perhaps we cannot trust you."

"But we would never hurt Miss Bennett..." Stefan protests.

"Bonnie, you can call me Bonnie. It is only fair if we use your given names."

"You can trust us," he is _so_ earnest, _so_ sincere, Bonnie feels a pull in her chest as she gazes at his mischievous blue eyes, not so very mischievous at the moment. "We promise we will not hurt you. Stefan and I would simply like to make friends. This is a new environment for us and it would be nice to know somebody here." Stefan obviously shares his brother's sentiments since he nods with an eager smile.

"Very well then," Caroline turns to Stefan. "Why don't you show me how I am going wrong with my shooting? These pistols are heavier than the ones we have practised with so far."

Stefan frowns and shakes his head sadly, "I do not know how to shoot. Our father does not believe that boys under the age of ten years should be taught how to shoot. Damon only learnt because he used to sneak out Father's pistols from the library and ask our old groom, Mac to teach him."

"Yes and Stefan did not learn because he is such a _good boy_ and he only does what Father says," Damon scoffs.

"We could teach you," Bonnie breaks in with an excited smile. "Not now, because Mister Saltzman will come back very soon but some other time. If you come by when we are not having lessons, we could teach you all about shooting."

" _And_ fencing _and_ fighting," grins Caroline. "But for now let us go somewhere else and play a game. Bonnie you go and tell Mister Saltzman we are going to play at the fort and I will take them there."

"The fort?"

"You own a fort?"

" _No,_ why do _I_ have to tell him? You know he will not like it. He will tell me I am shirking."

"He will not. It is all the better for him if we shirk, he can spend more time with Miss Parker."

Bonnie grumbles in a low voice and walks away in the direction of the stables, still muttering under her breath. The boys hear stray words from her direction, "coward", " _are_ a shirker" and "stupid Caroline" as said person grins in triumph and leads them over towards the back lawns, and a massive, sprawling cherrybark oak. Looking up, the boys glimpse a platform amongst the lower branches, made of wooden planks, with walls on two sides. There are tiny windows set into the wooden walls and through the single open side they can sight large stacks of pillows, books and pebbles. Hanging from the branches forming the roof of the little fort, there are dozens of seashells strung on ribbons, tinkling in the gentle breeze. A rope ladder hangs down, providing a way up into the lovely 'fort'.

"Did you make this?" Damon sounds impressed.

"Bonnie thought of it and Uncle Elijah had it made for us. We decorated it," says Caroline proudly. "Now, Stefan and Bonnie and I will climb into the fort and defend it. And you can try to invade it. If you can mount into the fort, and we are not able to stop you, we will surrender and you can make us do whatever you want."

"No, that is not fair!" protests the prospective invader. "Why am I all alone? Stefan and I are the defenders. You two can be the invaders."

"Certainly not!" Bonnie exclaims indignantly, coming up from behind them at this point. "It is _our_ fort. We are not going to stand on the ground and try to invade our own fort."

"Alright," Stefan says quickly, trying to prevent the argument he can see building up. "We will both be the invaders and you can defend the fort against us. But be warned, you will soon be serving our every will," he ends with a grin.

"Good! I can hardly wait to pelt Damon with pebbles." And giggling, the two girls swiftly climb into the fort, pulling the ladder up behind them.

X

"Where do you think they are?" Caroline whispers as softly as she can manage. It has been ten minutes and all is silent from the boys. After twenty minutes of relentless attacks they seem to have given up. The ground beneath the fort is littered with sticks and pebbles that have bounced off the walls, there are no more mud balls sailing over the walls of pillows and books the open side had been barricaded with. There is a deathly silence and the girls are getting restless, crouched beneath the tiny windows, a pebble clutched tightly in each hand. Occasionally, they peek out of the window but can see no sign of the brothers.

Meanwhile, Damon is climbing the tree on the opposite side. Stefan stands below looking up anxiously. As the former gingerly lifts his foot from a thick branch, the leaves on it rustle loudly. They both wince and Damon freezes, but no attack comes from the fort. No head peeks out from behind the pillow wall. Heaving a sigh of relief, Damon pulls himself up to a higher branch and nods at his brother, who nods back and steals away towards the front again with a pocketful of sticks and pebbles, to mount a cover for him. As he begins pelting missiles in the direction of the fort again, Bonnie and Caroline quickly respond, throwing stones towards the ground at his feet to prevent his coming closer. Stefan does not even attempt to do so, he stays firmly out of range, leaving the girls thoroughly puzzled.

"Stop, wait!" Bonnie exclaims. "Where is Damon?"

And the wall of pillows collapses at their feet as Damon leaps inside, making the girls scramble backwards with half stifled shrieks. "Here I am!" He gives them a devilish smile, tossing the rope ladder down to Stefan. "Come up, Stef! We've won!"

"Alright," the girls finally concede with dignity, after both brothers are inside and all four children are seated in a circle on the floor. "You _have_ won. Now, what do you want from us?"

"It is not much. We simply want you to come with us on a picnic tomorrow afternoon, by the lake, near the western end of our estate. That is the nearest side to your Uncle Elijah's estate as well, so he cannot scold you for leaving, either. We will bring food and fishing rods and you can bring your pistols and show us the best areas to fish there." Stefan smiles.

Caroline grimaces, "We do not know how to fish."

"I know a little," Bonnie shrugs. "The boys on the plantation used to do it. Never mind that, Caroline. Stefan can teach you how to fish and you can teach him how to shoot."

"Oh alright then," concedes Caroline. "Tomorrow afternoon. Bonnie and I will bring cakes. Cook makes the best ones."

Bonnie suddenly giggles. "Miss Parker will be so angry."

"No, she will not," asserts the wise young matchmaker. "Not with Mister Saltzman for company."

X

The lake by the Salvatore property is beautiful. The clear water reflects the sparkling blue of the sky, making even Damon's eyes seem dull in comparison. The banks are stony and the water is cool. Caroline and Bonnie hike up their skirts and wade out knee deep into the water as the boys set out the food. They grin at each other before reaching down to splash each other at the same time and then laugh at the similar wavelengths of their thoughts. Climbing out of the water, they then proceed to shake their wet skirts in the direction of the boys, spraying them with a shower of droplets. Stefan retaliates by crumbling a piece of bread and spraying the crumbs around Caroline's head whereupon she digs out Cook's lemon-iced cakes from their box and smashes it, frosting and all, into his face. Damon simply acts by chasing Bonnie into the water until they are both wet up to their waists.

Tired and panting, they lay out in the sunshine, drying out, laughing at silly things until their sides ache. It is the most perfect afternoon, the weather, the surroundings, the companions. And as four children form lifelong bonds of friendship near the waterside, the sun smiles down upon the scene, making the water shine jewel bright. And they are all truly happy, as in that moment their far from perfect lives _seem_ perfect and bright and beautiful.

Of course, Caroline with her never depleted reserves of energy which will not allow her to sit still for long, must leap to her feet before long. She immediately drags Stefan away in the direction of the trees at the edge of the lake to teach him to shoot, leaving Bonnie and Damon sitting by themselves.

He casts a look in her direction and a soft smile lights up his face, she looks _so pretty,_ with her hair having fallen out of its carefully pinned up state, her wet curls tumbling about her face and shoulders, her bright eyes shining with contentment. There is something so natural, so real about Bonnie when she is relaxed, at peace. It is not the forceful calm he has seen her display before, particularly with him. This is her comfortable with herself and the world around her. It touches him, moves him that she can feel free enough to be this open around him, that she trusts him enough to allow him this little glimpse of herself without the fortress of walls surrounding her.

"Where did you live before coming here?" her voice is soft, as if she too does not wish to ruin this calm atmosphere they have built up around themselves with loud words.

"We lived in Italy till Stefan was born. And then we came to America, to North Carolina. After Mamma died eleven months ago, Father has been wanting to leave. But he could not settle all his business till last month. Now, we are here, a new start, away from all memories of Mamma. Mamma, who left us all alone, abandoned to the care of a careless, negligent father." His tone is extremely casual, _too_ casual and it makes Bonnie glance at him. She sees something in his eyes, a pain _so_ familiar to her which makes her _ache_ to comfort this strange, vulnerable boy, trying so hard to seem strong, to be brave and fearless. Hesitantly, she lays her hand over his, waiting for him to move away. He does not. After a comforting squeeze, she lets go.

"I was born on a plantation in Barbados. My mother was a slave. I knew nothing about my father before she died. And when she did I was left alone in a strange world, with strange people. And then I met Caroline, my sister. She had lost her mother too. And I thought, maybe these people were not all so strange. She taught me to laugh and sing again. And I realised I was not alone. Neither are you."

"Caroline and I have both lost our mothers. I know it hurts, Damon. You never have to act brave in front of me. Never pretend it does not hurt you. But do not forget you do not have to bear everything by yourself either."

"My, my, you are so wise, new friend!" And then he smiles at her. "I am happy today. Today, _nothing_ hurts."

x-x

 **Well, that's it for now. Hope it doesn't disappoint. Right now, I'm concentrating on building up their relationships while still working out a proper storyline in my head. Thank you again for all your support. Please try to leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter (Or even if you didn't, I'd like to know how you thought I went wrong). Here's hoping the next chapter will not entail such a long wait.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everybody for your reviews on the last chapter. I'm not very sure about this chapter but this is all I could come up with. Hopefully, people will like it. Leave a review if possible, please.**

 **Chapter 5**

Bonnie is nine years old the next time she is attacked. That first time, when Caroline stood by her and Bonnie realised for the first time _how much_ she actually means to her sister, is a distant memory. Not forgotten, for it had consequences that she carries till the present day, most importantly a scar along her left temple, but pushed away to the back of her mind. At times, it rears its ugly head and Bonnie feels herself pushed to the corner, unable to trust anybody, but for the most part, it is simply that, a memory, amongst many others. The second time, Caroline is not with her, she is confined to her bed with a severe cold. But the Salvatore brothers are.

Stefan, Damon and Bonnie are on the Salvatore Estate. Months after their introduction to each other and the rather rocky start of a tentative friendship, the children are now nigh inseparable. It is a bitter truth to Elijah, who accepts it with great reluctance. Indeed, the day he comes upon the children in his stables, seated on large bales of hay and sharing ghost stories, he is livid. Bonnie and Caroline are defiant, and vocal about it. As the boys glimpse his unhappy countenance and get up to flee, the girls' vehement protests ultimately has him extending an invitation to the boys to visit again.

Since then, the children have played, learned to fight with Alaric Saltzman and gotten into various scrapes together. And Bonnie has finally found her _friends_ who _chose_ her for herself, having grown especially close to Damon. Whereas, Stefan's cautious nature and innate gentlemanly kindness makes him a perfect balance for Caroline's energetic, enthusiastic ways, Damon and Bonnie, both lonely, with their fears of abandonment, searching for approval and love seem to find the exact sort of companionship they long for, in each other. Damon's bravado and mischievousness makes her smile and tugs at her heartstrings simultaneously, while Bonnie's amalgamation of strength and sweetness charms him as much now as it did the first time they met. When the children are not all together, the little group most often splits into these particular pairs. And while Caroline drags Stefan away for some new activity or game, Bonnie and Damon may spend hours seated together in conversations and debates on a variety of topics, interspersed with companionable silences.

On this day, Caroline is absent from the quartet and the boys and Bonnie spend their time, throwing the Salvatores' newly acquired ball around at each other. Being Damon's, it is slightly too large for Stefan and Bonnie, resulting in loud cursing from the former when they miss their turns in catching it, running after it as it rolls away. Bonnie, returning from her seventh run after the ball, huffs that she does not want to play anymore and that this is not her idea of an enjoyable time. Damon tells her to stop being silly and just pay attention, so she can actually _catch_ the ball. When Stefan suggests playing tag instead, Damon refuses and asserts that they are too slow and he is tired of playing with babies anyway.

"You are a baby too," Bonnie snaps. "In fact, out of all of us, you are the one who acts most like a baby!"

"You did not say that when you were eating the fish _I_ caught three days ago! You and Stefan caught absolutely nothing. You would have gone without food if it wasn't for me."

"I ate that fish out of _pity,_ Damon. It was not even good."

"You _take that back!_ Stefan, tell Bonnie she is a liar."

"Brother, you spent so much effort catching it I did not want to say it first. But the fish truly was ter..."

"Well, I can agree with you on that, Salvatore," the voice comes from the top of the hill. "The little black witch is surely a liar. Why you spend so much time with her is beyond me."

X

Richard Lockwood has never liked Bonnie Bennett, from the moment he saw her seated inside a carriage with Mrs. Bennett, when the latter stopped to greet his mother in the middle of the town main street. His mother's smile towards Bonnie was all sweetness and artificiality, carefully concealing her repulsion for her dark skin and unruly curls. His smile was non-existent. This initial dislike has grown to epic proportions since the occasion of Bonnie punching him in the face, in response to a few words about her complexion and birth mother, while visiting the Bennett house with his mother. Richard, bereft of all of his friends, facing two furious girls, had fled with his tail between his legs, unable even to admit to anybody it was a _girl_ that had given him the impressive black eye. But the humiliation has grown and festered like an infected wound, leaving him seething for a chance to pay the little witch back!

Lockwood is firmly convinced the Salvatores are playing some sort of elaborate hoax on Bonnie Bennett. He does not believe anybody would willingly befriend the likes of her, the illegitimate daughter of a slave woman! And here, he suddenly observes and seizes his chance for revenge, Caroline Forbes being absent. At last, Bonnie is at the tender mercies of a large group of boys, and nobody to defend her. True, he might be interfering with whatever Salvatore's plan for her humiliation is but he has waited too long for this moment to let go of this opportunity. As he swaggers in her direction, his friends follow, laughing at his poor attempt at humour.

" _What_ did you call her?" Damon is white, his hands clenched into fists. His entire body is shaking with fury.

"Lockwood, what are you doing here?" Stefan frowns, stepping forward, subtly shifting so Bonnie is firmly behind him.

"Oh, you need not pretend to be her friend any longer. You can stop playing your games now. I do not think anybody believed it, except that little fool," Thomas Baxter cuts in.

"Yes, everybody knows your motive was only to gain her trust and then humilia..." Damon punches him.

Lockwood falls back with a grunt, landing on his rear. James Fell lets out a roar and charges at Damon. And all is mayhem, as Stefan pushes Bonnie out of the way of the brawl and rushes to his brother's side. It is a far from equal fight, being six against two. Fists fly in all directions and despite all Mister Saltzman's lessons, the brothers find themselves slowly being pushed down to the ground as the other boys attempt to pound them into the earth. Damon kicks one away and turns around, only to be hit in the jaw, sending him staggering back. Stefan is dripping blood from his nose, but valiantly throws punches right and left until a kick at his legs sends him flat on his back, rolling, just in time, out of the way of a foot aimed at his ribs.

All of a sudden, Bonnie is there, in the middle of the fray, wielding a large, thick branch like a warrior goddess. She cracks it over Thomas Baxter's head, sending him howling away from Stefan and turns to thwack it on one of Martin Carter's arms, before sprinting towards the three holding Damon, who is still fighting, kicking, spitting, clawing. With a neat smack across Lockwood's backside, Bonnie tears their attention away from Damon to herself.

"You coward!" she spits in disgust at Fell, swinging in the direction of his head, as he ducks out of the way. "I saw you hitting Stefan from the back. Bastards! You were going to team up against one lone girl? Fighting six against two? Come now, come and fight me, you weakling fools!"

Eyeing the weapon in her hands, Carter is the only one who makes any attempt to approach. As he creeps closer, Stefan screams out a warning. Bonnie whirls around, eyes blazing, lifting her branch higher and all the boys split, turning tail and disappearing rapidly up the hill. She waits a few minutes, until they are truly out of sight before throwing away her branch and hurries towards Stefan on the ground. As she tries to examine him, he waves her off.

"I'b alride. Cheg Dabod."

"Then why do you sound like that?" Bonnie questions anxiously. "Stefan, what if your nose is broken?" She tries to dab at the blood with her clean white handkerchief, but Stefan hisses and turns away, getting to his feet as Damon limps over. He is bleeding from a cut over his eyebrows and his jaw is beginning to swell and bruise, as is one of Stefan's eyes. Their knuckles are torn. Their clothes too. When Damon spits, blood spatters the ground. Stefan is cradling his wrist. Damon clutches his right side. Bonnie surveys them both with a frown.

"You both have to come with me. I want Momma and Miss Parker to take a look at you."

"No," Damon replies. "We should get back home."

"Don't be silly," Bonnie scowls at him. "We all know nobody is going to care for you at your house. Come with me. I think Papa should call the physician."

"Our house is closer," Damon sounds stubborn.

"Not by much. Damon Salvatore, you listen to me now or I will whack you over the head with my tree branch," she threatens.

X

The women are simultaneously horrified and concerned at the sight of the two boys. Jenna immediately has the medical supplies brought down and begins tending to them while Elijah calls for the physician. The entire story comes out, bit by bit, although all three children are reluctant to speak of it, particularly their parts in the whole affair. While Elijah is concerned to learn that the first blow was struck by Damon, his approval at the boy's prompt defence of Bonnie wins a smile that he cannot completely disguise. The whole affair complicates his standing with the parents of the rest of the children, as well as Giuseppe Salvatore, and he realises that this will be another black mark against his daughter's reputation when the news spreads, but in the midst of all this he cannot help but feel gratitude that Bonnie was not alone against Richard Lockwood and his troupe, alongside pride when he hears of the fierce way she drove off the little ruffians.

The coming of the physician and the discovery that Damon has a broken rib and Stefan a fractured nose and a sprained wrist, sends Jenna into a flutter of worry again. Bonnie feels vindicated but refrains from throwing Damon a triumphant look, at the sight of his pained expression, which he tries manfully to conceal. Not that he would see her triumphant look anyway, seeing as he has been carefully been avoiding eye contact with her for the past hour. As the thought registers, Bonnie's look changes to one of worry and she draws closer to her best friend, deliberately trying to catch his eye. But he never looks in her direction.

"Damon," Bonnie calls softly. He looks up at her for a second, before looking down at his bandaged knuckles again. "Damon, what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing, Bonnie," he shakes his head.

Bonnie quickly looks around the room. Jenna and the physician are examining Stefan. Elijah has retired to his study to puzzle out solutions to his recent spate of problems. Miss Parker has left to check Caroline's condition. They are alone in their corner of the parlour.

"Do not lie to me. Something is clearly bothering you. What is it? Are you angry with me, for some reason?"

"Why do you care, Bonnie? Should you not be hanging all over _Stefan?_ " Damon inquires nastily.

"What?" She looks at him blankly.

"I thought I was your best friend," now he sounds moody.

"You _are_ my best friend."

"Then why did you run to look after _him_ as soon as the fight was over? Do you think Stefan cares more for your safety because he thought to protect you before jumping in to fight?"

" _Damon!"_ Bonnie is sure she sounds exasperated but he deserves it! "I went to Stefan because he seemed more badly hurt than you. No other reason. Are you truly jealous of your brother over such a little matter?" Then she smirks, a smirk worthy of Damon himself. "And as far as I saw, forgive me, but I _do_ think that it was _I_ who was protecting the two of you, not the other way around."

"I am _not_ jealous," he exclaims childishly. "I simply fail to see what is so special about Stefan that everybody always seems to prefer him. He is like a helpless little puppy, he cannot even fight properly without needing to be rescued. _I_ was doing quite well even without your unnecessary help."

"I _would_ have been _very_ angry about that comment and called you an ungrateful wretch if I did not know that you are saying all that because you _are_ jealous. And that is extremely foolish of you. Damon, you know you are my very best friend...and do not tell Stefan this, but perhaps I care for you a very, very little more than I do him," she grins.

It takes a moment, but he smiles back.

X

"And to think I missed all of it because of a cold!" Caroline wails.

"Would you have actually liked to be there?" Bonnie asks in an amused voice. Caroline is curled up in an armchair in front of the library fire, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. She is pouting.

"Most certainly! And I would not have spared anyone, Bonnie, unlike you. I would have whacked every single one over the head with that branch. How dare they say such things about you and lay a hand on Stefan and Damon?"

"Well, Damon started it, to be fair."

"And he did absolutely right! Who do they think they are, spreading such horrible lies about all of us. Even thinking about it is making me so angry!"

"I think Papa is worried. The parents of the boys are surely furious. They probably despise me more than ever before now."

"It is their fault. They should have taught their sons better manners than to insult a lady!"

"You know very well they do not consider me a lady, Caro. I am afraid what people will begin to say about me again. _I hate it!_ Is it such a crime to be different?"

"What will they say? Let one of those old cats _dare_ say anything to me! You are my sister, whatsoever our parentage might be. I dare anybody to insult my sister in my presence!"

Bonnie studies her with a smile. And nods. "You are right, Caroline. Why should I be ashamed? Let them dare say anything to my face!"

x-x

 **A shorter chapter this time, but a quicker update. That should satisfy you till I can get the next one out. This is turning into a rather leisurely stroll to a long story. Hope you don't mind that. Let's see.**

 **Just to clear one matter, this Ricahard Lockwood** _ **is not**_ **Tyler's father. I realised only after finishing the chapter that the name is the same. I don't** _ **think**_ **Tyler is in this story, but I'm not sure. Maybe I can make space for him.**

 **I really hope you appreciated badass Bonnie. I really, really liked the idea of Damon and Stefan setting out to protect her and then needing to be saved by her in the end, since the second thing is one of the few things that I like about the TV series, Bonnie being badass** _ **without**_ **sacrificing herself. I hope I could incorporate it well into my story.**

 **As I said, I am not satisfied with the way this chapter turned out. But I hope to do better on the next one. See you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**My reviews have really dropped in number. It discouraged me greatly for a while. Plus, my Fanfiction account seems to be giving me some trouble so I don't even know if people are reading this anymore. But then I cheered up and decided I would write this story for myself and not for anybody else. So, here's the next chapter. To all who did review, thank you. I appreciate the effort. I really don't take it lightly.**

 **Chapter 6**

Rattles on glass is what awakens Bonnie, pulling her out of a dream that is already fading away. It takes her a minute to completely wake up and realise that the sound is coming from the window. As she slips from her covers and makes her way to the window, yawning, she steals a look at Caroline, who is fast asleep and snoring softly. Bonnie snorts and forgives her on account of her cold. The cool air that hits her when she eases the window open wakes her up completely, and is enough to make her scowl down at Damon, who has been tossing gravel at their window. But something about his face, his posture, his very demeanour is enough to make the scowl slip from her face. Something is wrong, very wrong indeed, for him to seek her out in the middle of the night. He has _never_ done that and Bonnie's instincts are warning her that if ever Damon has needed her to keep him from falling apart, it is now.

She holds up a hand to signal him to wait, quietly pulls the window closed and creeps out of the room, down the servants' staircase and out the pantry door into the kitchen garden. Damon is waiting there for her, by the doorway. He takes her by the hand and begins towing her away from the house to their fortress, completely ignoring her whispered questions. It is only after they have climbed up into it, and settled down on a thick blanket, with the cushions strewn all around that he speaks.

"Father found out what happened yesterday afternoon."

Bonnie chews her bottom lip, waiting for more.

"Mister Fell came to speak to him and told him I had instigated the fight. He thought this could not go unpunished." Damon's voice is almost frighteningly blank. "He locked us in his study today and gave me fifty strokes of the cane."

"But, you're hurt! You have a broken rib! How _could_ he?"

"You do not know my father, Bonnie. I disgraced the Salvatore name. If he had to kill me, to make up for that, he would do so."

"And Stefan?" she questions hesitantly.

"Nothing," Damon glances at her sharply but answers nonetheless. "Stefan cannot be blamed since his brother is such a bad influence. After all, that is whom he learns from. If I cannot control myself better, what will my little brother learn?"

Bonnie does not say a word. She simply draws as close to him as she can and puts her arms around his shoulders, laying her cheek against his. For a minute, Damon stiffens. Physical touch is not something he is much used to since his mother passed away. By embracing each other in this manner, they are breaking about a thousand rules of social etiquette but it is _so_ comforting to just bury his head in her shoulder, and let his body relax against hers.

Bonnie has never before had the responsibility of a person's very soul thrust upon her. But she knows, she simply _knows_ that something about Damon might become irreparably damaged on this night, if she does not tread carefully. He has trusted her with this moment of immense vulnerability, with the care of his unseen wounds and she _does not know what to do!_ She simply holds on to him, cushioning his head on her shoulder, rubbing his back slowly, giving him what she hopes is the silence that he needs to settle his thoughts.

"When Mamma was alive," his voice is barely audible and Bonnie strains to hear. "When she was alive, she could not always save me from him, but I always knew that whatever he might do to me, she would be waiting outside. Once the nightmare was over I had a safe place to go to. I would lay in her lap and she would stroke my hair, for hours and hours."

"You can always come to me, Damon," she tells him in a fierce whisper, pressing her face into the top of his head. "I cannot be your mamma, but I can be your new safe place."

"Why did she have to leave?" It is a heartbroken whisper. "Why did she leave us with him?"

"Oh, Damon." Two fat tears disappear into his hair and slides down his forehead. Feeling the wetness, he glances up at her and then reaches forward to wipe her tears. "She did not want to leave. None of them did. Do you think, she did not know you needed her still? But you are not alone in this. _Never,_ you know that, do you not? You remember what I told you?"

He does not reply. Only, "I am tired," he says. When Bonnie lays a pillow down on her lap and pulls his head towards her, he goes without a word of protest, laying his head across her thighs. As she begins to swirl her fingers through his hair, he seems to calm down and gradually Bonnie feels the tension seep away from his body and his weight sink onto her further. Her mind is in turmoil, volleying to and fro between pain, indignation, sorrow and outright fury. Used to the warm atmosphere of her own home, Giuseppe's behaviour towards his son bewilders and angers her. She wants to protect Damon from this, from this hurt inflicted by his own father but she does not know what she can do but provide comfort afterwards. She knows this is not the first time this has happened, even in the eighteen months she has known the Salvatore brothers. More than once, she and Caroline have noticed a certain stiff carefulness in Stefan and Damon's movements, more often with the latter than the former. It concerned them, of course, but when asked about it they both simply clam up, and attempt to switch the topic. Eventually, the girls just give up.

Damon murmurs softly and shifts closer to Bonnie, his head pushing into her stomach. She smiles, resisting the urge to squirm from the ticklish sensation. He is so exposed, so childlike in this moment, she feels quite motherly. It is a feeling which she is quite unused to, not having any younger siblings but rather Caroline, who is the mother between the two of them. Thus, here, with Damon, she finds herself in a unique position of having the care of a person, however temporarily, in her hands. She wants to do a hundred different things. She wants to pull him closer, as close to her as she possibly can and not let go. She wants to look at his back, to see how badly his father has hurt him. She wants to keep him here with her, safe, forever, and never allow him near his father again. And although she is feeling sleepy too, she cannot find it in herself to leave him here alone, or even move him away from her. Leaning back against the wooden walls, Bonnie closes her eyes to rest them. Her fingers never untangle themselves from his hair.

X

Bonnie is dithering in the garden of the Salvatore house, just outside the French windows of Mister Salvatore's study. She has made up her mind the previous night, but the execution of her little plan is slightly more nerve-wracking. In the end she decides that all she can do is grit her teeth and leap straight into the matter and this is exactly what she does. Her tentative knock on the door is answered by a grave "come in".

Giuseppe Salvatore is slight and unimpressive to look at. His hair is speckled with grey. His grey eyes, when he turns them on her, are cold, unlike the warm, bright ones of his sons. His frown at sight of her is most forbidding. She swallows but steps forward bravely.

"Yes?"

"I am Bonnie Bennett, from the Bennett House over on the western side of your property, Mister Salvatore."

"Yes, I assumed so. By your attire, you cannot possibly be a servant. I have heard of you. What do you want?"

"I am a friend of Stefan and Damon. I...I know you punished Damon for the events of that afternoon...and...and I just wanted to say none of it is his fault. Or Stefan's. They were simply trying to protect me and..." she breaks off as he rises to his feet slowly.

"Friend? Do you mean to tell me my sons have been making friends with the bastard children of slave whores? Girl, let me make myself clear. Bennett might allow for this sort of blasphemy but I will not stand for it. You will leave my house now, and you will never come near my sons again. I will have you flogged if you do not obey me." His voice has steadily risen to a shout and he is spitting and spluttering by the end of this speech.

Bonnie becomes rigid with shock and rage. Her slight form trembles under the onslaught of words. She is used to it. Used to cruel words and mocking sentences. But never before has it been so crudely said. Never before has it come directly from an adult. An inferno unfurls in her chest, as her mind rebels. Why does this man thing he is so much better than her? What exactly does he think he has done that it makes it alright for him to address her in this manner? The only difference between them is that she a nicer person than him by _far._ She straightens herself until she is standing proudly at her full height. And although she is a small child, her dignity at this moment makes her seem like she is towering over the blustering man.

"I am the daughter of Elijah Bennett and heir to the entire property. Yes, my skin is darker than yours, but that does not make you better in any way. My father is one of the most respected people in this town and I came here _first._ Just _try_ to lay a hand on me, you horrible old man!"

"How dare you, you little...wait, come back here, do not turn your back on me!"

She turns for a last parting shot before sailing out the French window, "And I will befriend whom I please. Your sons need _some_ affection and warmth in their lives."

X

"You did not _really_ do that, Bonnie! You are simply trying to fool me."

"No, no, I really did!" Bonnie wails, covering her face with a pillow. "Caroline, I lost my temper. Oh, what did I do? He beat Damon for getting into that fight, now what will he do to the boys? I have only made things worse."

"He beat Damon? So, we _were_ correct?"

"Yes, Caro. He is a terrible man. Damon was absolutely broken last night. I did not know what to do. I felt I had to act. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"Bonnie, you need to calm down. Look, from what you tell me Giuseppe Salvatore sounds like a coward, like Richard Lockwood. You remember how Lockwood never told anybody it was you who punched him, but blamed a stable boy? I do not think Mister Salvatore will either. He will be too ashamed that a young girl rebuked him in this manner and he could not even gather the wits to say anything." She whooped with laughter. "Oh, had I been there to see his face!"

"He does not need to say anything to hurt Stefan and Damon," Bonnie's voice is stark.

"I have an idea. Let us shake hands on this. The next time he beats either of the boys, you and I will take a tree branch each and go and beat him," The most terrifying part of this declaration is how perfectly serious Caroline is about it.

Bonnie groans.

X

As far as the sisters are able to judge, the brothers do not suffer for Bonnie's lapse in judgement and nobody is the wiser about her undeclared visit to her neighbour. But things are less simple on the other front. The story about the fight has spread like wildfire and although, at first, all grown-ups concerned regarded it as a quarrel amongst a group of boys, slowly Bonnie's starring role in the affair leaks through. Nobody knows how. Each boy swears between themselves they would rather be caught dead than reveal that they were assaulted by a _girl_ but the fact of the matter is that somebody talks.

Bonnie has never been able to walk through the market-place or the square or up the main street without attracting looks. Her skin colour combined with her lovely, well-made clothes are sure to attract attention, even were the townspeople not intimately acquainted with the details of her entire history, especially as she is always accompanied by Caroline and either Jenna, Miss Parker or a nurse-maid. But now, it is ten times worse. People point, and stare, and whisper, and talk. Women grimace and turn their faces away. A young boy actually spits in her direction. She later identifies him as George Lockwood, cousin of Richard.

One day, while out with Miss Parker, Bonnie hears a young woman comment, "Well, if the Bennetts bring an animal into their house, why _should_ people be surprised to learn that she bites? I am simply surprised this did not happen earlier."

"And what do you have to say about a group of boys who plan to assault a young defenceless girl seeing that she is unaccompanied, Mrs. Lauren?" Josette Parker's voice is sharp as a whip-crack. "What sort of animals would you say _they_ are?"

Mrs. Lauren flees the scene in embarrassment.

Some are not so easily shamed. Mrs. Lockwood and Mrs. Fell demand Jenna bring Bonnie to their homes and apologise personally to their sons. When Jenna refuses on grounds of the boys being the actual provokers of the attack, it raises cries of protest to the point that the Bennetts are denied invitations to any social gatherings for a few months. Rumours, once silenced, start up again. Bonnie Bennett is in reality Elijah's child, what other reason is there for the the Bennetts to support her so, despite everything. Elijah and Jenna have set aside their entire property for the illegitimate brat, including all of Caroline Forbes' inheritance, which the poor, innocent child has been conned out of. Bonnie Bennett is _Jenna's_ daughter, her age is suspect, seeing that Jenna had been away visiting her cousins in the north for many months, nine years ago. A move is made, by the fathers of the bullies, to remove Elijah Bennett from the town council. While this cannot be followed through, being opposed by all but the injured parties, his visits with fellow landowners becomes a source of great discomfort to Elijah, as they find it necessary to constantly remind him that he has made a very great mistake, despite all his protests to the contrary.

X

"Papa?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Come here." She smiles and hurries to him and Elijah holds out his arms so she can climb onto his lap. She is getting rather too big for this now, but it is a source of comfort to both at this moment. As she buries her face in his crisp white shirt, he puts his arms around her, holding her firmly, his eyes still on the library fire.

"I have made a lot of trouble for you and Momma."

"No! No, Bonnie, my baby. Never think that. You did nothing wrong, except defend yourself and your friends. That is a _good_ thing, one of the most important things for a person to do is stand by their loved ones. Those boys are ill-brought up, and they had bad intentions. If anybody has made trouble, it is them. Not you. And whatever is happening now, or will happen afterwards, we will weather it together, as we always have. Does it help to hear that?"

"Yes, yes it does." She lifted her head and rubbed her forehead against his cheek, giggling. "And Papa, I am not a baby!"

He clutches her tighter. "Bonnie, I have broken so many rules so I can give you a happy life, so you can feel free and find a proper place for yourself in this world. Jenna and I have made every effort so that you do not feel the absence of your parents, of other people who _would_ stand by you and love you if they could just be broad-minded enough to realise that skin colour means nothing and you are truly beautiful, inside and out. Do not make me break this one rule... To parents, their children are always babies and so you will be to me even when you are dandling your own on your knee."

"Alright," she whispers. "I will allow it." And she snuggles up to him with a content smile.

x-x

 **I thought it was time to return to the Bonnie-Elijah relationship. I feel I have been neglecting it a bit. If you enjoyed the chapter, do** _ **please**_ **leave a review. I would be immensely grateful. The next chapter might take a while. But stay with me!**


	7. Chapter 7

**If this chapter is not up to the mark, I am sorry. My great-aunt is in the hospital in a critical condition and I have been very distracted lately, but took recourse to writing. I would like to thank my readers for all your reviews on the last chapter.**

 **In answer to a few reviews, I am sorry if the depth I have gone into with their childhood put you off the story, but my summary** _ **clearly**_ **states that their growing up years is an integral part of the story and I felt it was important to outline a few of the events that mould them into the men and women they become. Bonnie's fight against a set power structure, for respect and equality begins, from the moment of her mother's death, and** _ **not**_ **only after she has reached a certain age. If you were expecting a rapid time jump to seventeen or eighteen years of age, I am truly sorry to disappoint, but this is what I had in mind for my story. Glossing over the formative years would have left me with two-dimensional characters, which is the** _ **last**_ **thing I want. That said, there** _ **is**_ **a jump in this chapter.**

 **To those of you who have been eagerly waiting for the grown-up years, this is your chapter. They are officially adults, or at least** _ **adult enough**_ **for the nineteenth century. Now, the real drama begins.**

 **To the guest reviewer who asked about the rest of the Mikaelsons, here they are. But probably not in the way you were expecting. There is a reason Elijah and Finn are named Bennett in this story.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 7**

"Girls, today you _must_ be well dressed and on your best behaviour. And that means no arguments at the dinner table. You are to have guests to dine."

" _Miss Parker!_ " Bonnie moans. It should, by all rights, be Mrs. Saltzman now, but neither she nor Caroline can bring themselves to address their beloved teacher by any name other than the one she introduced herself with, that first day she swept into the schoolroom like a little hurricane.

But right now, it is the idea of a dinner party that is filling Bonnie with horror, the last one, when she was fifteen, her first and last one, still embedded deep in her memory. A torturous few hours spent in the company of a group of narrow minded, malicious women, three of whom refused to be seated by her and most of whom made unkind remarks about her presence as one of the party, in what they undoubtedly assumed to be inaudible murmurs. Bonnie had quickly realised that all she could do was sit up straight, throw her head back and bear it with a determined smile as she conversed with gentle old Mrs. Lindsey with her soft white hair and pale blue eyes, who sat beside the young girl, smiling kindly and patting her hand comfortingly when the comments became more scathing than usual. Jenna had to actually take the extreme step of asking one of her guests to leave when Mrs. Young had commented, "I understand your charitable impulse in keeping her, Mrs. Bennett, seeing that she is your husband's niece, but does she _really_ have to be treated as one of the family. After all, the Captain is dead. Who is to tell you how you should treat her." Caroline had immediately leaped up and would have said something had Jenna's firm voice not been heard first, thanking Mrs. Young for her presence but pointing out it was late. The latter had taken the hint. After this disaster, Bonnie had quietly slipped out and run to Damon for comfort. He had provided it, once he managed to pick his jaw up off the floor at the sight of Bonnie in the finest clothes she had ever worn, her hair pulled up in an elegant arrangement of braids and curls, a touch of colour to her cheeks and lips.

It is this incident of a year ago that is preying on her mind when she tells Miss Parker in a serious voice, "Perhaps it would be better if I were not present for this."

"Nonsense, dear. This is not the kind of dinner party you are thinking about. These young men are newly come to town and have some business to discuss with your father. They have been invited to join the family for dinner after."

"What are their names?" asks curious Caroline. "We have not heard of any new family moving into town."

"Probably because they have not _yet._ But they will. They are the Mikaelsons, I believe. A widow and her two sons and a daughter. Come from England. I believe they are related to the aristocracy in some manner. She calls herself _Lady_ Mikaelson."

"She sounds like she puts on a lot of airs and graces," Bonnie says worriedly. "But if she is a Lady, why would they leave England to come to Mystic Falls? Even if she is a widow, would her eldest son not be a Lord?"

"From what I hear, her father was some kind of Lord. Her husband was nothing. I do not understand much about English titles but I _think_ hers is self-styled, rather than genuine. Do not worry, sweetheart. She will not be present tonight, only her sons."

" _Well,"_ says Caroline. "I hope, for their sakes, they are more like the Salvatore brothers than the Lockwood ones. Otherwise, they are in for an interesting dinner party indeed."

X

Niklaus and Colum Mikaelson are not precisely like either pair. When Elijah introduces "My two nieces, Miss Caroline Forbes and Miss Bonnie Bennett", their expressions falter slightly at sight of Bonnie, but they smile charmingly at both girls. Niklaus keeps his distance, simply bowing, studying her carefully but his younger brother comes forward and kisses their hands, Caroline first, the Bonnie, according to their ages, as is proper.

"Please call me Kol," he adds, straightening up. "Everybody does."

"But that would hardly be proper," giggles Caro flirtatiously. He grins at them before lowering his voice to a mock whisper, "Well then, we can indulge in this scandalous behaviour strictly when alone." His seemingly serious air while delivering this line makes a laugh come bubbling to Bonnie's lips and this time when he glances at her, he seems struck. Smiling, he holds out an arm to her, in order to escort her to dinner.

The brothers are entertaining and unfailingly polite. Seated beside Caroline and Bonnie respectively, Niklaus and Kol are extremely attentive to their every need, drawing them into the conversation and indulging their thirst for stories of their lives in England with good natured patience. Elijah and Jenna smile in satisfaction, but Bonnie cannot shake off the impression that _something_ is wrong. Something does not fit in with Miss Parker's description of their mother, and although her conscience warns her that her governess was conjecturing, she has never actually _met_ any of the Mikaelsons, her instincts tell her to beware and not become too comfortable with the attentions of Kol Mikaelson, flattering though they might be to a girl boys have only looked upon to spit at or throw stones in her direction.

Mister Mikaelson's glances too cause her discomfort. They are neither cruel, nor mocking, nor lascivious but the detached calculation in the depths of his eyes, gives her the uneasy feeling of being assessed, examined, like a prize horse. Not so, does he look at her sister. With her, his glances are admiring and Caroline preens like a peacock, under the attention of this handsome man with his air of power.

"Do you not feel something is not quite right about the Mikaelson brothers, Caro?" Bonnie whispers in a low voice so as not to attract Jenna's attention, when the ladies are seated about the fireplace of the formal drawing room, while the men enjoy a smoke on the terrace.

"No, Bon. I like them. I know it is hard to trust strangers, given our special circumstances, but I have a good feeling about them."

"Yes, because _Lord_ Mikaelson looks at you as if you just created the Earth."

"Well, if we are speaking about these things, how can I describe how Kol Mikaelson looks at you? He barely took his eyes off you all through the meal. Damon will be _so_ displeased when he returns and finds out he has been displaced from your heart," Caroline ends gleefully.

"What?"

"Never mind. I will let him explain," Caro sighs, as if Bonnie is the most foolish person she has ever come across in the entirety of her young life.

Bonnie gazes at her sister blankly. She has no idea what Caroline is talking about or how Damon is even an issue when talking about the Mikaelson brothers. He has been away for four weeks, taking care of some shipping concerns for his father, near the coast and has sent a letter saying he will be back in a few more days. She is looking forward to his return, especially now with this new conundrum in front of her. Caroline is obviously no help, her head has been turned temporarily. Bonnie cannot wait for her to pull herself together. She needs somebody's help to work out why she feels this way about a pair of extremely courteous, officious gentlemen, or rather about the elder of the pair.

Kol Mikaelson is back beside her. "Miss Bennett, I hear you are a marvellous shot. What do you say, we have a competition tomorrow. Klaus and I against you and your lovely sister?"

"If you enjoy defeat, it is a most excellent idea," Bonnie gives him a sweet smile. "What of your sister? Would she not like to come? Or has she not learned to shoot?"

"She has. Rebekah cannot bear to be told she cannot do anything her brothers can, even if she does it badly. She knows how to shoot, a matter my mother would be most distressed to learn indeed. Very well then, we will visit tomorrow afternoon. The challenge has been thrown down and accepted. Your confidence makes me all the more eager."

Caroline, who has been listening to this conversation, turns to Klaus eagerly. "And will you come?"

"I do not know whether that is wise, brother." He addresses Kol, not looking at Caroline. "Your spending so much time with Miss Bennett. Will people not talk? what will they say?"

Lightning quick, the atmosphere in the room changes. Caroline draws back as if stung. Bonnie glances up at him, her face inscrutable. Jenna opens her mouth.

"What _should_ anyone say?" Her voice, which had been sugar sweet so far, is hard now, like stone. Caroline is on the warpath, and Klaus realises he has made a misstep.

"I am only concerned about Miss Bennett's reputation," he says swiftly. "My brother's certainly is not that of a knight in shining armour. I would not want ill to be said about her being alone with him." Kol glares at him.

"She will _not_ be alone with him, if your sister and I are with them," she says in a guarded manner. "Would you like to join us?

"I most certainly will," he smiles at her. "My mother too will want to pay you a visit, Mrs. Bennett," he adds, turning to Jenna. "She is very eager to become acquainted with her neighbours. Will tomorrow be convenient?"

"Certainly, I shall be delighted to host your mother while you young people enjoy yourselves. She is most welcome to spend the day with me."

X

Bonnie turns over on her side and looks over at Caroline's bed. Seeing her fast asleep, she lets out a loud sigh and flops over on her back. Her mind is restless and so sleep evades as a hundred thoughts whirl through her head. About the Mikaelsons, about Klaus's real intentions and eventually her mind drifts back to what Caroline had said about Damon. She turns again, onto her stomach this time. She misses him. By the time he returns they will have spent a month apart, and they have not spent so much time away from each other ever since he went to North Carolina to apprentice with his uncle the summer she turned eleven.

Damon had left a boy and come back a man, having shot up a few inches in height, his voice having deepened and his cheeks beginning to stubble. She had actually shrunk back in shyness when she first set eyes upon him on his return. It had taken a warm smile from him and a gentle tug on one of her locks to get her to smile back and move toward him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. He had gradually stopped joining her and Caroline and Stefan in their childish games. And although he had never stopped Bonnie from coming to him with her problems, seeking comfort and he too sought her out at times when he needed a patient ear desperately, Damon had steadily given up playing and games for work. But he was still her best friend, and Bonnie understood that the problem was their particular ages and did not feel hurt. She did not believe that their relationship would ever fall apart.

Bonnie frowns, on her back and staring at the canopy, again. He does not tug at her hair anymore. He cannot, as she now wears it up, as befits a grown young lady. Now, at times, he tucks stray strands away behind her ears, letting the backs of his fingers lightly brush against her cheekbone. When did he start doing that? A year ago, a year and a half? How did she never notice the intimacy of the gesture before? The sudden thought makes her shiver and she pulls her blanket around herself tightly. Now that she thinks about it, Damon has been different. What was it that had so hurt her last month? What was it she had done, tripped and stumbled against him, and he had frozen and drawn away as if she had burned him. And a couple of months before that when Aaliyah, her mare, had broken her tether and run for home, he had put her on Rosso, but had refused to climb up behind her, instead walking the large Arab all the way to the Bennett homestead. Bonnie had been bewildered at his stubborn idiocy. She still cannot understand it. What had... Caroline said...? Something...something about...replacing...oh dear, she feels sleepy now, now that she wishes...to puzzle this...

Soon, the room is filled with the sound of the deep, steady breathing of two tired girls.

X

Stefan has been coerced into being one of the party the following day. It is a role he takes on with great reluctance, filled with apprehension about the Mikaelsons, particularly after he hears of Niklaus' comments of the previous day. But he has never quite mustered the art of saying no to Caroline. And thus, here he is, on the back lawn, at the shooting range of the Bennett household with the two cousins, waiting for the Mikaelsons to turn up.

It does not take long for Mister Saltzman to appear, with the brothers and a young lady with hair lighter even than Caroline's and dressed in a pretty, light summer dress in tow. The two brothers are taken aback at the sight of Stefan, but Rebekah is too busy surveying Bonnie to pay attention to anything else.

"Well!" she comments. "You _really_ are exotic looking."

Bonnie frowns, completely unsure how to take this. She cannot understand if it is meant in a harmless manner or not, exchanging quizzical looks with Caroline and Stefan.

"I did not mean that negatively," Rebekah assures officiously.

Giving her a rather artificial smile, Bonnie waves her hand in the direction of Stefan. "This is Stefan Salvatore. He is our neighbour and we have grown up together. We thought he could join us today, on our team. Since you have three on yours."

Klaus examines the proximity between Stefan and Caroline and the narrowed eyes of the former as he observes him and makes a manly effort not to grimace. "Certainly, Miss Bennett," he smiles at her. "The more the merrier."

It is a massacre. The three friends are too good together, and while Kol is good, and Klaus and Rebekah far from bad shots, this is Bonnie and Caroline's home ground. After a half hour, the Mikaelsons accede defeat and the group decides to stroll down to the stream. They gradually break off into pairs, with Bonnie and Kol in the lead.

"I do not like him," Stefan tells Caroline, once he is sure they are out of earshot. "He acts too familiar with Bonnie. It is not right, or gentlemanly."

Caroline lets out an unladylike snort. "What you do not _like,_ Stefan, is somebody taking your brother's place beside Bonnie."

"This has nothing to do with Damon," replies Stefan with dignity. "I do not know what his feelings towards Bonnie are."

"Nonsense! Everybody in Mystic Falls knows about Damon's feelings for Bonnie, _except_ Bonnie herself. It was inevitable and everyone saw it coming a long way away."

"Now you are going to say something foolish about how there was no one else for them but each other from the day they met."

"I am and it is true," Caroline insists. "Damon was bewitched. Not in a romantic manner, of course. He was ten. But in the way young children are bewitched by fairies and nymphs. The feelings came later, much more recently. Maybe a year ago? But there was _something_ , definitely, between them. And mark my words, Stefan Salvatore, they will never be happy with anyone but each other."

"And who will you be happy with? Niklaus Michaelson?" Stefan kicks at a pebble in his path moodily. "He seems _bewitched_ by you, and not in the manner of a child either."

Caroline turns towards him swiftly, something about his tone alerting her that all was not right. "I..."

"Miss Forbes," calls Miss Mikaelson, from somewhere in front of them. "Do come and look at this flower. What is the name? I have never seen anything quite like it." Caroline smiles at her, before casting a helpless glance in the direction of her best friend. Stefan has turned away. "Miss Forbes, is anything wrong?"

"No, no" Caroline calls out, hurrying forward to join brother and sister, taking the arm Niklaus proffers her.

X

"What do you think of her, Nik?"

"Honestly, I find her repulsive. But Kol is struck by wonder, the fool."

"You knew her heritage before you met her. I was actually surprised after your comments yesterday about her looks. She is extremely beautiful, despite the misfortune of her birth."

"I did not expect her to be like this, Rebekah. She shows nothing of her mixed heritage. There is nothing of the Bennetts in her looks. I wanted Mother to see her before any decisions are made, but Kol has already spoken to Elijah Bennett. Why did Mother not come today?"

"She _says_ she feels ill. It would not be _such_ a pity, Nik. Her fortune is immense. And she seems a sweet girl. The Bennetts must have weathered many storms, for her presence. But they are still a respected family hereabouts."

"I suppose it would not be the _worst_ thing. The Bennetts would be a powerful alliance."

"And what of Caroline Forbes? She seems to have caught your eye. She does not have much in the way of dowry, poor girl, but as the elder son that need not concern you."

"Yes, but I am afraid I may have offended her last night. I said something not _so_ wise, as regards Miss Bennett and Caroline is more attached to her cousin than I expected. The presence of that Salvatore today makes me unhappy."

"Come, do not fret, brother. I will call her. She cannot possibly, in all politeness, ignore us." A minute later Caroline is on Klaus' other arm.

X

"And have you lived here long, Miss Bennett?"

"Nearly all my life. My father brought me here when I was just four years of age. My uncle and aunt have cared for me ever since. They have never allowed me to feel the absence of my parents." Bonnie feels a strange sense of having been here, in this position before. Perhaps because she has had this exact conversation, seated on the banks of this very stream, with Damon. They had begun speaking of their mothers, revealing one thing about them in turn.

"My mother played the piano. She taught me."

"Mamma used to sing me to sleep. She had a beautiful voice."

"Mamma used to check under my bed for monsters every night, when I was small. Nurse always complained she would ruin her beautiful dresses but she said it was her duty to protect her son."

Bonnie giggled, "My mamma did not believe in monsters. She was not scared of _anything._ "

She blinks, coming back to the present. Drat it, what is wrong with her? Why is she constantly thinking of Damon nowadays? She has never been this distracted. "I am sorry, did you say something? I am afraid my mind was elsewhere."

"I only said you are fortunate to have such a loving family." It suddenly sounds so _insincere,_ merely a polite nicety, as compared to the memory she abruptly pulled herself out of, it leaves her feeling a little cold. She smiles at him, nods, looks back down the path. "We should get back to the others, do you not agree? We have far outstripped them. They will wonder where we are." Kol agrees courteously and holds out his arm again, for her to take.

Bonnie, casting a glance back at the bank, as they walk away, can swear she almost sees a shimmery outline of two dark haired children, heads bent together, whispering secrets.

X

"Bonnie," Elijah looks grave.

She stands in front of his study table, watching his serious expression, in a puzzled manner. The Mikaelsons left a quarter of an hour ago and she was summoned to her father's study as he said he had something important to discuss with her. She cannot imagine what can possibly be the matter, for him to be looking this old and tired.

"What is the matter, Papa? Are you not feeling well?"

"Bonnie, Kol Mikaelson asked to speak with me this morning. He asked for my permission to court you."

x-x

 **Well, that's it for now. I am not a great fan of the Mikaelsons, honestly. But I will not unnecessarily demonise them in this story. Their roles aren't exactly that of shining stars, but they are far from the worst perpetrators of any crimes against Bonnie. We will meet Esther in the next chapter, maybe. Or perhaps the following one, I'm not exactly sure. Sorry for the absence of Damon, he'll be back soon, I promise.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter. Though not exactly a first time writer, this is really the first time I'm putting out my writing for the scrutiny of a large number of people, and it makes me uncertain and nervous about myself, especially as I am not in the best state of mind right now. So I am pleased people seem to be enjoying the story. Someone asked for Damon's point of view as regards his falling for Bonnie. Even thinking about attempting to think like Damon terrifies me but if people are interested, I'd be glad to give it to you.**

 **For now, enjoy this chapter!**

 **Chapter 8**

" _Bonnie, Kol Mikaelson asked to speak with me this morning. He asked for my permission to court you."_

A long minute of silence reigns through the study.

" _What!"_ But she has heard him correctly. She knows that. The grim expression on his face that coincides with her racing heart confirms it. And she feels as if she cannot _breathe,_ and she is falling apart and _dear God,_ why is Caroline not here to stop her from crumbling with fear. "Papa, I am _sixteen_ years old. I have never even _thought_ about marriage."

"Bonnie, listen to me. I have always been honest and open with you. And now, I am doing the same. I know this is a horrible truth to have to hear, but the truth _is_ that you are different. And not in a way that most people like. It has always been Jenna's and mine worry, who will protect you when we are gone? Who will care for you, protect you then?"

"I can protect myself," she responds woodenly.

"I know, my daughter. But you cannot fight the world alone. Nor do I want that for you. I know Caroline will forever take your part, but soon she will have to make her own family too and she cannot always be where you are. Bonnie, I wish it could be different, but the time has not yet come when a lone woman can run this massive estate by herself."

"Papa, why are we speaking of this now? You and Momma are _here_ now. And you will be for a long time."

"Yes, yes we are. And God forbid, I hope that does not change soon. But I am anxious to make provisions for you well in advance of any possibility of our demise. I need to know you are well looked after, that you are happy. And Kol Mikaelson seems an honourable man. He _wants_ to care for you."

"And you do not think you will get any other offer for me. The Mikaelsons, they are being _kind_ enough to overlook my _misfortunes_ of birth." Her lips twist in a bitter sneer.

"I do not ever want you to feel that way. Kol would be the most fortunate man on Earth to have the privilege of being married to you." Elijah sighs, moving around his desk to come and stand in front of his daughter. "Bonnie, from the moment you came to us, we have discarded and over-ridden every convention that governs the way of life here, so that you can discover your place. I have loved you and protected you as I would any natural born daughter."

"I belong _nowhere!"_ She cries out, the anguish of having being pushed into such a corner cracking her voice. "Outside of this house, I belong nowhere, Papa. I am neither a lady, nor a servant. I will not be accepted as the former and I do not know how to be the latter. And you say this is for my safety, for my happiness but I do not _know_ this man you are entrusting with these things. I do not...I..." Her breath breaks, gasps and then sobs. She feels so _helpless_ , she is four again and Jenna's smile turns into a frown at sight of her, she is ten and Farmer Bates' boys are half drowning her in the creek to see if she has been rolling in mud to be this brown, she is fourteen and the new assistant at the draper's store is asking her to leave the shop in front of all the high-born townswomen, who giggle and speak not one word in her defence.

Elijah's normally calm countenance falters and falls at the sight of his strong daughter reduced to such a state. His arms go around her tightly as he pulls her head into his chest, running his hands soothingly through the silky dark curls. His voice is rough as he murmurs endearments, as he holds her as he has not since she was a child.

"You do not have to decide _anything_ now. You do not have to make _any_ choices. He will wait. If he is a worthy man, he will wait until you are ready. And if you never are, if you believe he will not make you happy, he will leave without a word of reproach, I promise you this. Do not weep so, daughter. All will be well. I will make sure of it."

X

"It is very strange how Mister Mikaelson promised his mother would accompany them on their visit and then she simply sent word of a headache. He assured you in such a manner that she was eager to meet her neighbours, Auntie and then she declines an opportunity to do so." Bonnie, Caroline, Jenna and Miss Parker are seated in the morning room. The elder two ladies are bent over lacework, while Caroline is adding a few finishing touches to a sketch. Bonnie is seated on the window seat at the large bay window, a book open in her lap, but her eyes are turned outside, in the direction of the Salvatore Manor, a glimpse visible in the distance. Her thoughts are far away.

"I do believe you are making too much of a small matter, Caro dear. She probably _was_ genuinely sick. It has been a long, tiresome journey for them not very long ago, after all. She may yet be recovering from the fatigue. She must be of quite mature age."

"Hmmm...I do not know, Aunty. I liked the Mikaelson brothers well enough when they came for dinner until Niklaus made that comment. For all his quick thinking, that is not what he intended _at all._ And the sister too, she was so condescending yesterday. I even heard her speaking with Kol about my dowry. There is something not quite right about them. Bonnie's instincts were correct."

"Well, _I_ think you may be being slightly too dramatic, Caroline. But I will say this, if it is true that they have hidden intentions, it cannot be about money. Niklaus Mikaelson is very well off indeed. Come, let us be charitable. They are to be our neighbours, we _must_ be well-mannered. If we _do_ discover they are not quite honourable, all we need do is establish our distance." She casts a thoughtful glance towards Bonnie, who does not look like she has heard a single word of the conversation. "And stay near your sister when Niklaus and Rebekah Mikaelson are present. Somehow, I find myself trusting Kol more than the others."

"And what of the mother?" Josette Saltzman questions dryly.

"We will decide when we meet her. No hasty judgements, Josette."

"Well, I am sure we will not have to wait long to meet her. She is sure to be invited to the Ellison Ball, the following week. Only a week left! My very first ball!"

The butler enters the room, attracting their attention with a cough. "Mister Colum Mikaelson and Miss Mikaelson are here, Madam. Should I show them in here?"

The women exchange glances in surprise. Bonnie rouses out of her reverie and turns pale, slipping away from the window seat in order to place herself firmly between her sister and aunt. Jenna squeezes her hand before nodding at old Sheppard, who leaves to show them in.

"We are here, darling. Do not worry. You will not be left alone."

X

The last turns out to be a promise she cannot completely keep. When Kol suggests a walk outdoors, to take advantage of the pleasant weather, although Caroline and Miss Parker are careful to accompany Bonnie, due to the Mikaelson siblings' charming manoeuvres, the ladies find themselves veering off with Rebekah, while Bonnie and Kol fall back. They are still within sight of each other, but out of earshot, when Kol begins, "Miss Bennett, I pray you to tell me you are aware of my hopes regarding us, our union. Your guardian tells me you may be unwilling..."

"Please, please do not speak of this to me now. I must make up my mind...I must reflect...I hardly know you, Mister Mikaelson," Bonnie is distressed, she casts desperate glances in the direction of the others. Caroline, looking back, makes as if to start back towards her, but is prevented from doing so when Miss Mikaelson tugs on her arm and appears to ask her something. "I beg you, if you are a gentleman, you will not hurry me into a decision. I...I have never even _considered_ marriage until now."

"Certainly," if he is disappointed, he masks it well. "I would not like to cause you distress in any way. And while I know what you say is true, and we truly do not know one other well, I see so much to admire in you, Miss Bennett and I truly hope you will give me a chance to prove we can be happy together, only as friends for now, if you will."

"Yes, yes thank you," she cracks a hesitant smile. "I would like to be your friend, to get to know you better. We _are_ to be neighbours, and I do not have many friends."

"While that is a shame, I would be honoured to call you a friend of mine," and he raises her hand to his lips in the most courteous manner. Bonnie is smiling in his direction, a smile of utter relief that he _understands,_ that he behaves gracefully about this, that perhaps all _will_ be well, when a well-loved voice rings out, from the direction of the back terrace, calling out her name in an incredulous tone.

X

Miss Parker and the girls walk up to the little group just as Damon joins them. No sooner are introductions made, and the men survey each other, Kol cool and assessing, Damon, face set like granite, than Caroline distracts the siblings, drawing them off in the direction of the rose gardens on some pretext.

"Damon," Bonnie's smile could light up a hundred rooms. "Oh, it is so _good_ to see you again. I have missed you so very much. It was lonely without my best friend here." She recalls her thoughts then, about him, about his touches and blushes suddenly in confusion. Attempting to divert herself and him, she adds, "I have so much I wish to discuss with you."

"Such as the fact that you are _engaged?_ You could hardly wait for me to leave, before throwing yourself into some strange man's arms." He is _livid,_ the sight of another man's hands on Bonnie, _his_ Bonnie; his lips on _any_ part of her body; her smiles directed at him has Damon off-balance. When the stable boy told him Bonnie's engagement was under discussion, he could hardly believe it. Seeing her with that man, their moment of camaraderie, and Bonnie looking so _damned comfortable_ around him has him contemplating murder. How long has she known the bastard, how many times has he visited her while he was away? Damon is furious. And he has never known how to control his temper. So he lashes out at the only available source of that fury, the pathetic little coward having left, hidden behind his sister's skirts.

" _What?_ I did not throw myself into any man's arms and I am most certainly not engaged! Why are you _shouting_ at me? I was happy to see you. And now you have ruined it!" Bonnie cries indignantly.

"Well then, if you are not, you will be soon, I hear. Your father does not even wait till you are eighteen before marrying you off!"

"How dare you say anything against Papa! He did not arrange anything. Kol asked!"

"You are on first name terms with him?" Damon looks like he might be ill.

"He is my friend. And a better one than you, from what I can see! He did not leave me here _alone_ when I needed him. He was _actually_ nice to me when he first set eyes on me, unlike _you._ And he likes me and wants me."

Had she slapped him, it would have hurt less. " _He_ wants you? _God,_ Bonnie!" Damon knows he sounds like he is choking, but she does not _understand_ what she just said to him. They stand opposite each other, inches apart, both breathing hard. Bonnie has to tilt her head far back to look him directly in the eyes. Damon is bent towards her. The next time they come together might be a different sort of a battle, lips and teeth clashing.

Bonnie steps back, frightened of the strange energy swirling between them. Damon's eyes shutter. His expression goes blank. "Why do you enquire what Kol is to me! What does it matter to _you_?"

"What does it matter to me! _Nothing!"_ He snaps back ferociously, before turning around and trudging away from her. "What you do with anyone matters _nothing_ to me!"

x-x

 **A dialogue heavy chapter, and a short one. Sorry. But lots of confrontations. Not great work on my part but I wanted this up today as I may not be able to update again in a while. I thought a lot whether I wanted Damon to declare his feelings here, or be childish in atypical Damon fashion and go on denial mode. Honestly, I felt both would be believable coming from him, but then I decided it would perhaps be better to go into a little depth regarding his emotions. So, you have that to look forward to.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. And now, without further ado...**

 **Chapter 9**

Damon Salvatore is a complicated person. His past, his losses, his father's treatment of him has made him so. He does not trust easily, nor does he make many friends. He has not spoken to his father on any matter that does not have directly to do with business in three years. He loves his brother dearly but does not always confide in him, trying to protect him from Giuseppe even while making fun of his gentle ways. But if there is one simple thing about Damon, it is his feelings about one Bonnie Bennett. She is his. Just as he is hers. Always, forever, irrevocably. Even when she was a little thing of twelve and he was all grown up at fifteen. Yes, he did not have much time for a babbling child at the time, immersed in his studies, learning how to manage the growing family tobacco export business. But, even so, that Bonnie go to another person to share her secrets, that she take someone else into her confidence was _unacceptable_. _He_ was her best friend, her confidante, her advisor. This is non-negotiable and anything different has never occurred to him.

That it might have occurred to her is a jolt to everything he believes in. He can admit that it is his fault. He was the one who had drawn away from the firmly established quartet, had left the _children_ to their devices while he got more engrossed in 'adult' work. It hurt Stefan and Bonnie at first, he is aware of that. The girls would come to fetch his brother for a tramp through the woods and she would eagerly ask if he could join them. Her face would fall at his 'no' until she stopped asking. Damon can admit to feeling jealous the first time she had come up to his house and on seeing him, her first question had been, "Where can I find Stefan?" but had reasoned with himself that it was only natural that the difference in their ages would cause them to drift apart. When she started coming to him less and less, no more seeking him out as an audience, it had stung but he had told himself that it was better for her to learn to be independent. After all, he would not always be there. It was only when she turned fifteen, watching her come running towards him in a lovely gown, hair dressed in flowers and ribbons, did he realise ' _Good God!_ Bonnie is a woman now' and _of course_ he would always be there. Where else could he be?

But now, it seems that Bonnie has never realised this because she can tranquilly ask him "What does it matter to _you?"_ as if she is not the most important part of his life, as if she is not the _only_ thing that matters. Is she really so oblivious? He certainly has not been subtle, leaning away from her touch so his hands and lips and body do not develop minds of their own and decide to molest hers, and yet unable to resist, reaching forward to touch her cheek, her hair. His eyes, fixed on her as she and Caroline twirl amongst the falling leaves of the oak, getting bits of red and gold caught up in her dark locks like a flaming crown. And yet she does not know, she has no _idea_ his world might fall apart if she picks another man.

Damon is furious and scared, as he marches into the Salvatore mansion, slamming the door in the process. He does not know what to _do._ Bonnie cannot, _cannot_ accept Mikaelson's proposal. She cannot be so foolish. If she does, he will do something _desperate..._ he...he will...

"I see you are back, brother."

"Did you know about Kol Mikaelson?" He whirls on his brother.

"I met him yesterday," Stefan admits cautiously. "Know what about him?"

"The bastard is trying to get Bonnie to marry him!"

"Well," Stefan manfully hides a grin. "He _did_ seem very attentive to her during our walk. Bonnie seems to like him as well. She could do worse than a courteous, rich, devoted young admirer..."

" _Damon!_ "

Both brothers look up in the direction of the study. Damon shoots his brother one burning glare before departing to answer the summons. His father will no doubt be displeased to learn he stopped at the Bennett house first instead of hurrying at once to bring him reports regarding the last shipping. Giuseppe has always disliked his friendship with Bonnie, he even made attempts to break it off in the beginning when he first learned that one of the daughters of the Bennett house was an illegitimate daughter of a slave. It had been one of the few points Damon and Stefan had directly opposed their father on, to his face. Now, he attempts to ignore it as best as he can until it is brought to his attention in an unavoidable manner, upon which he reads his sons a lecture on how they are dishonouring the Salvatore name and they must _not_ be seen around her any longer. Neither Stefan nor Damon have made any attempts to obey their father's wishes in this regard.

X

"I do not trust his intentions. You say he had seen her once before he asked to court her. That is not right."

"I agree," Stefan sighs. "I do not believe Bonnie believes his intentions to be perfectly pure either, since she has not returned any answer yet. It may be that he thought she did not have many chances of marriage and wished to secure her hand before a fortune-hunter appeared on the scene, to protect her. But it would have been more decorous to wait a while."

"Why do you believe _he_ is not one of said fortune-hunters? Bonnie _does_ possess a considerable fortune." Damon sounds fretful and he _hates_ it but he simply cannot pull his mind away from Bonnie and Kol and the way she was smiling up at him. Why would she do that? How many weeks did it take for _him_ to coax out that bright smile from her? At least eight or nine, when he took her part in an argument against Caroline. And Bonnie has known that _rat_ for no more than _three days!_

"The Mikaelsons are reputed to be very rich indeed, from their mother's side. Her father was a Lord, a part of the English aristocracy. It is said his grandfather left Niklaus Mikaelson an immense fortune. I doubt it is her inheritance they are after."

"Then what are they after? I refuse to believe Kol concluded after one meeting with her that he cannot survive without Bonnie," says Damon snidely.

"You might want to reign in your jealousy and control your temper, brother. You are unwittingly insulting Bonnie. If she hears all this, you may lose your chances altogether," Stefan shrugs. "Perhaps it is the Bennett connection they are after. Elijah is a powerful man in these parts."

Damon dissolves into thought. The only thing he can think to do now is go back to Bonnie and apologise, explain the reason for losing his temper. But will she believe him? Will she accept him? He should ask her to allow him to be her escort at the Ellison Ball. It is Bonnie and Caroline's first ball, since their coming out party was a small affair attended by only a few of the families from the town. Bonnie had been very deliberately excluded from the Fell Ball a month ago. He had been away but he remembers the determinedly humorous letter she had written telling him how it had led to the entire Bennett family shunning the Ball, a defeat for Mrs. Fell indeed as she had been counting on Elijah's powerful acquaintances to get her younger brother a good placement in the Navy. She had visited Jenna the following morning and explained how it was a great misunderstanding between her husband's secretary and herself. "You know how it is, Mrs. Bennett, I always say if you do not do something yourself, it is never done well." Jenna had smiled, accepted the not-quite-apology and explained Elijah had left that morning. Mrs. Fell did not make the pretence of waiting a few more minutes for the sake of politeness, before sweeping out of the house.

So yes, this would be the girls' first big ball and they must surely be looking forward to it. Yes, he _would_ ask Bonnie. And if he could not tell her of his feelings yet, as that might possibly frighten her away, he _could_ show her. He _would._

X

This does not go quite according to plan.

He finds her in the Bennett library, curled up on the couch, a book in her hands. She is surprised to see him but she makes space for him on the couch, putting her feet down. She knows he regrets the harsh words they flung at each other, just as she does. She did not mean to say he abandoned her and that Kol is a better friend. The apology is not terribly smooth, since Damon does not like the idea of apologising to anybody. He stumbles over the words and Bonnie is surprised to find he is tense and nervous about something, although she cannot guess what. Still, he _is_ sorry. He did not mean all of which he said and he admits he should not have said all that he did about her and her father.

"Bonnie, will you consider allowing me to escort you to the Ellison Ball?"

Her mouth falls open. _Damon_ wants to escort her to the Ball? Well, he _is_ her best friend but a gentleman that is not a relative escorting an unmarried young lady has certain significance that Bonnie does not even want to consider. The idea that _Damon_ might think so of her...her heart beats a little faster. But no! What is she thinking? Of course he does not feel that way. His intentions are simply to be a good friend for an event he must surely know she is nervous about.

"Damon, I would have liked that. But Caroline and I are being accompanied by Miss Mikaelson. Her mamma is not well and is unable to attend, thus Momma is chaperoning her. I cannot abandon her. And besides, it would not be proper for us to go together."

"I see. And what of Miss Mikaelson's brother? He will surely be accompanying his sister."

"No, Damon," Bonnie sighs. "Her brothers will be arriving by themselves." She scrutinises him closely. He has walked away to examine the writing desk. He looks distant again, closed off. "Damon, what is really your concern? I know I have had certain bad experiences with strangers," her mind jumping back to the time a new family, having come to pay a visit to Jenna, had taken one look at Bonnie in the drawing room and retreated without even sitting down. "But Kol has been nothing but gentlemanly. He has not displayed one bit of prejudice."

She lets out a little squeak of surprise when he whirls around all of a sudden, comes up to her and drops to the ground in front of her, so he may be on eye level with her. "Do you feel anything for him, Bonnie? As...as more than a friend? Is it possible that you may agree to...becoming his wife?"

"I do not know! I do not know what to do and that is why I needed you here. My best friend, to advise me."

"Is that all that I am, the best friend? You are asking _me_ to advise you on whether to marry another man?" His voice is rougher than she has heard in a while, and it is that same frightening energy from the previous afternoon drawing around them, spinning a web that they cannot escape even if they wanted to. And Bonnie wants to pull him closer, wants to send him away, wants to pull her fingers through his thick hair, wants to scream and run out of the library, wants to sink into him, wants to hide amongst the cushions so he cannot find her. But this is _Damon,_ Damon who slung a pebble at her and helped her hunt for her ribbon. Damon who slept in her lap, trying to find safety from a tyrannical father. Damon, just the thought of whose fingers brushing her cheeks gives her shivers down the spine. Her mind, her heart, her emotions clash and struggle and fight, crying opposing instructions and _Dear Lord, what_ is she supposed to do? His hands are fisted on the cushions on either side of her, trapping her there, his eyes are blazing and Bonnie has always found it astonishing and beautiful how Damon can have eyes the colour of ice but with the nature of fire.

"What do you want me to _say!"_ she bursts out in desperation. "I do not know what you want anymore, Damon. You are not the boy I grew up with and it is terrifying! I do not know how to act around you. At times you draw me close and then you push me away, you smile and then you get angry! What do you _want_ from me?"

"I want you to answer my question." His voice is low now, low enough that the cracks inside him are almost hidden from her sight but Damon can never _really_ hide anything from her. She sees them, she sees he needs something from her but what is it? Which words of hers will bridge this ever-widening chasm that is newly opening up between them. She will say it. Whatever he needs from her, she will give it. Anything to seal those cracks, to eradicate the fear, the pain she can see blooming in his eyes the longer she keeps quiet.

She risks touching him, even though he looks like he might break under it. "You _are_ my best friend." When he attempts to draw away, she clutches his arm tighter. "You always have been. My confidante, my safe place, one of the most important people in my life. Now, I do not quite know what you are but I know that a month with you gone swamped me in loneliness, and I do not know how I will feel if I have to spend more time away from you. But that is what will happen if you leave now, with _this_ unresolved between us. So tell me Damon, _what_ do you want me to say to you?"

He looks up at her and he can see the same fear he feels reflected in her face. Why is he being so hard on her? She is still so young, only sixteen. Perhaps, not old enough to realise what she feels or to accept it. Will he relinquish this because of fear and cowardice? This relationship that has kept him from drowning in a hundred different sorrows and heartaches all his life. He _can_ say it first, can he not? Even if she cannot say it back, he can wait. Will he allow Kol, the three day old interloper, to come in between him and Bonnie?

"I love you. I am _in love_ with you. And I do not know when exactly I realised it, but I think it has always been true. You established a place for yourself beside me from that very first scathing comment and I know that no other person can occupy that place. Nor would I want them to. I am yours. Always, no matter what happens. No matter the consequences, and there _will_ be consequences. But we can go through them all together. I believe that."

Whatever Bonnie might have thought Damon would say, it was not that. Never that. She has not imagined it, then? Damon _does_ feel that way and she need not be ashamed of the occasional stray wishes that cross her mind, for her desire for him to look at her a certain way. She has _not_ been mistaken about it, the few times she has indulged herself in thinking about it? And now, he is waiting for her answer. Her hands grow cold. What should she say? Does she love him? Does she reciprocate his feelings? All she really knows is that she does not want to spend the rest of her life without Damon in it.

"Do you...do you always want to be around me?"

Damon frowns. What sort of response is that? He answers however, truthfully, as he always has been with her, "Most of the time, yes. Not when you are in a terrible temper though."

"Do you, perhaps, glance at me sometimes and suddenly feel that I am so beautiful you cannot breathe?"

"All the time, Bonnie," he smiles.

"And...you want to...to kiss me?"

" _Yes._ I want to take you in my arms and kiss you and lose myself in you, in your scent, in your body and never let go."

She goes scarlet. "And you feel like you can never be happy if I ever disappear from your side?"

He simply nods.

"I...I feel all those things, Damon, about you. So, I suppose I am in love with you too, if that is what being in love is."

" _Thank the Lord,"_ Damon Salvatore breathes out, crushing her to his chest, sealing his lips to her. And if Bonnie feels like her mouth is being plundered, well, she never thought she could be so happy to be plundered and robbed. As her body begins to heat up, well, they could both be on fire, the library, the house, everyone in it and Bonnie would not care. Really, here in Damon's arms, arms and bodies intertwined, mouths tangled together, trading breaths, flavours, touches, could possibly be the best way in the Universe to die.

x-x

 **God, this chapter was** _ **hard.**_ **I had to try very hard to prevent this story from falling into the trap of childhood friends, almost a brother-sister like relationship turning into a love story, because I** _ **hate**_ **those. They are so unrealistic. I had to make a conscious effort so Damon and Bonnie's relationship would never be sibling-like, even when they were young. I don't know if I succeeded. I had to establish a distance between them after a certain age, because they cannot be inseparable all their lives and suddenly** _ **boom,**_ **she turns sixteen and they're in love. And anyway, I felt it was logical that a fourteen year old boy, considered to be almost a grown man in those days, would not be inclined to play tag or forts with a group of eleven year olds.**

 **Also, in case anyone feels there are contradictions in the first and second paragraphs, the explanation is, Damon's reasoning at this time is that Bonnie has to be independent and not come to him with all her problems but she certainly cannot go to anyone else with them (e.g. his brother) because that position of confidante, of comforter only belongs to him. It is immature and illogical, but well... that's Damon.**

 **The conversation between them, well, I am praying people like it. This was not how I imagined them to confess their love but what can I say? My story developed a mind of its own. Please, please, please leave a review regarding your thoughts. They're important to me.**

 **On an ending note, the drama is** _ **far**_ **from over. It has only begun. Remember, Damon and Bonnie having feelings for each other and acknowledging them, does not matter one bit in the grand scale of things, in those times.**

 **Oh, and for those wondering, Elena does not exist in this story because a) I did not find her necessary to the plot in any way and b) I do not really like Elena but I am fair enough to admit that this might be because of bad writing on the show. As such I would not like to take a possibly positive character and make it terrible due to my prejudices.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Why are you humming? Why do you seem so happy?" Caroline studies Bonnie suspiciously, with narrowed eyes.

It is true. Bonnie has been almost deliriously happy the last two days. She can even now feel the burn of Damon's lips, his hands on her mouth, her cheeks, jaw and neck and shoulders. Thinking about those precious moments, the manner in which he brought her body alive and set it singing, has her shivering in delight, a bright light in her _green_ eyes, the same light that had been in his when he had finally raised his head after their breathless kiss and had looked up at her as if entranced.

" _I can hardly believe this is real. Tell me it is so, Bonnie. Tell me it is not a dream."_

 _She smiles shyly, "I did not know...I never thought that you felt this way about me. Sometimes, you would look at me and...and I felt this_ tingle _all over me. But, I did not know what it was. And I was ashamed to notice how beautiful you were, Damon." Her fingers are still tunnelled in his hair and she does not feel she can ever bring herself to let go. Is this what love is, then? This intense pressure in her chest which she feels will grow and burst and leave her in shattered bits if she draws too far from him?_

 _He takes her small hands in his and kisses them, the tip of each finger, a bracelet around her wrists and, last of all, right in the centre of each sensitive palm. Bonnie squirms, both overwhelmed with shyness but also, at the same time, a wish to feel that touch everywhere on her body. "Do not ever be ashamed about any feelings regarding me, cara." He sat back on his heels then, seemingly deep in thought. "I told you, Bonnie. I have probably always loved you, even when I did not know what love truly was. But it took me some time to realise, that you were not a little girl any longer. The last year, you do not know how hard it has been to restrain myself, to not blurt out my feelings. When I saw you with another man, even with Stefan or his friend, Matthew Donovan, it...all I wanted to do was rush in there and swoop you up and never let you go. I am sorry about my conduct regarding Kol Mikaelson, but...Bonnie, I was afraid. Afraid I had lost you by not saying anything, by thinking you too young, by a desire to not frighten you."_

 _She frowns. His possessive words raise some apprehensions within her but she is mature enough to divine that they are born from deep-seated insecurities. "But Damon, you must have known I care nothing for Kol. Why, I hardly know him. How could you even imagine he could compare with you in any way? I might not have known what I felt for you, but I do not feel anything for him at all." A pause, and then a delighted smile. "You called me cara!"_

He had smiled then and said she _was_ dear to him, the dearest thing in his world and once more words had dissolved into long kisses and lingering touches. A lot less frantic, almost unbearably tender, Bonnie had discovered there was more than one way to be kissed. She was resolved to discover them all.

But she does not wish to reveal all of this to Caroline. For the first time, there was no driving desire to tell her beloved sister every particular of the event. This was her secret, warm and delicious, lighting a fire in her chest at simply the memory. It was not a crime to keep it to herself a while longer, was it? The world did not need to know immediately. And there was still so much uncertainty after all. They had not spoken much, simply letting their hands and lips get acquainted with each other. Bonnie knows things would not be easy, she knows neither of their families will accept this with great delight. Did they not deserve a few days of unadulterated bliss, without all these concerns getting in the way?

"I am merely excited, Caro. It is our first ball, after all. I am looking forward to it."

"You were not earlier," returns Caroline. "You were anxious about what people might say about your presence, whether they would accept it, whether anyone would invite you to dance. I remember even two days ago you said perhaps you should not go." She is powdering her cheeks carefully, applying perfume on her neck.

Bonnie grimaces under the hands of Maria, her maid, as the latter brushes and twists and winds her unruly curls into something resembling an elegant knot. She tries to affect a careless shrug. "I decided to take your words to heart and enjoy whatever might happen tonight without heeding other people. Besides, I am sure Stefan and Matthew and Damon...and Kol will provide me with enough dance partners." She winces once, before continuing, "Caroline, did you and Stefan have a quarrel?"

"Not exactly," Caroline sounds fretful. "But he does not like Niklaus. He does not like that I spent time with him."

"Do you think Niklaus is attempting to woo you?"

"I do not know, Bonnie. If he is...I do not know what I would do. I am not like you, my father left me little to support myself. Even if Uncle Elijah were to provide a handsome dowry, it _still_ would not amount to very much. I may not have many chances of marriage. If he does ask for my hand..." She breaks off, looking troubled.

"Oh Caro, you are so beautiful, both within and out. I cannot imagine that you would not have a thousand offers. Do not worry so much. And do not marry a man you simply cannot like." After a thoughtful pause, she ventures, "What about Stefan?"

"What _about_ Stefan?" Caroline sighs, snapping on a bracelet. "He has never spoken to me of such matters. He thinks of me as his friend, nothing more."

"But _you_ want something more, do you not? Why not tell him? Friends may become something more."

Caroline casts a sharp glance in her direction, but Bonnie is now fiddling with the catch of a necklace, not looking up. "I do not want to make a fool of myself and embarrass both of us." Bonnie opens her mouth. "And in any case," Caroline continues bitterly. "Giuseppe will murder Stefan before he lets him make a match with a daughter of this house. He has never forgiven Uncle Elijah for 'interfering' in his fathering techniques, so many years ago. Besides, he hates us both."

The necklace catch snaps. Bonnie gazes down at it in astonishment and horror. "He hates me, rather more than you, I suspect," she says bleakly. This is exactly the sort of thoughts she would like to banish from her mind at present. But Caroline _has_ brought up a pertinent point. Bonnie honestly does not know how she and Damon will tackle it.

"Come Bonnie, let us forget these unhappy thoughts for tonight and simply enjoy ourselves." Her smile is determined, she will let nothing ruin this debut for her. Bonnie hesitantly smiles back, and decides to follow her lead.

X

When they alight from the carriage at the Ellisons' and make their way up the front stairs, it is clear that Bonnie and Caroline are amongst the simplest dressed of all the young woman. Bonnie in her cream muslin with elegant lacework and Caroline in pale pink satin with a row of tucks around the hem stand out amongst a sea of bright silks and festoons of ribbons. And if the girls quake from fear of not being grand enough for the festive occasion, in truth they only manage to make the other young ladies look overdressed and stiff in comparison. It takes a reassuring look from Jenna to get the two girls to let go of their fears and meet their hostess with chins raised high.

Mrs. Ellison is polite and gracious, greeting Caroline, Bonnie and then Rebekah with a smile, ushering them in the direction of the ballroom and bidding them to enjoy the event. Enquiries are made about Mrs. Mikaelson and regrets expressed for her inability to attend. At the entrance to the ballroom, the Mikaelson brothers are waiting and due to events completely beyond her control, Bonnie suddenly finds herself descending the grand staircase on Kol's arm.

Her smile is tight and she can only pray that Damon is not present to witness this spectacle. She does _not_ want this, does _not_ wish for anyone to leap to the wrong conclusions. She must speak to Kol, to Papa, explain to them that she cannot accept his advances but a ball is no place for the matter at hand.

Her prayers are not answered.

Bonnie becomes aware of a certain burning gaze on her, about halfway down the stairs. And she cannot look now. If she meets his eyes, she is not sure what he will do, perhaps run up the stairs and snatch her away from Kol. This is not what she had in mind for her first entrance into a ball. Oh Dear Lord, she _refused_ his escort, she _promised_ him Kol was not taking that place, that she would be accompanied by Caro and Miss Mikaelson only. With great resolution, she keeps her eyes from seeking him out, and smiles, looking right ahead. At the bottom of the staircase, people throng. Introductions are made, greetings exchanged, well-bred and banal words dropped like so many worthless handkerchiefs.

For the most part, people are gracious and polite, and if this is touched by some slight condescension, Bonnie makes an effort not to notice, or let it hurt. She notices, much to her astonishment, that the young men are more inclined to be gallant than the women. By the time the dancing is announced, she has already had a few offers for her hand. It annoys her, however, that Kol seems determined to remain by her side and quite clearly considers himself her escort. What annoys her even further is that Damon makes no effort to cross the floor in order to approach her or even to look at her. Whenever she glances in his direction, she can see him charming a pretty young lady or the other, all of whom look prepared to swoon at his feet. Bonnie grinds her teeth, and turns around to offer Kol her most winning smile as she agrees to partner him for the first dance.

Stefan shakes his head as he observes Damon and Bonnie, both in the same set, both ignoring the other in order to gaily flirt with their partners, as they weave and bow, come closer and separate in the movements of the simple dance, eyes and smiles firmly fixed on Phoebe Lockwood and Kol Mikaelson respectively. They are both being ridiculous and he cannot understand why they do not simply _talk_ to one another. His eyes shift to another couple in the same set, and he clenches his fists, admitting that he can sympathise with his brother. _Why_ is she allowing that _dog,_ Niklaus, to dance attendance on her? Is she really so oblivious that she cannot see the family does not have good intentions in mind? Caroline is not usually such a fool! After a moment of intense scrutiny which she can feel but chooses to ignore, he stalks away in the direction of the wine glasses.

Bonnie meanwhile is raging and growing tired of having to hide it under a cheerful smile. That _wretch,_ telling her he loved her only two days ago and then flirting with another woman right in front of her! The innate fairness within her asserts itself for a moment to say that she, who was parading around on Kol's arm, had no right to berate him. But it is not her fault, _damnit!_ How could she help it? She had no control over the situation. Why is he acting this way? If he wants her at his side all he has to do is cross over to them. She'd go willingly!

It is just as she has ended her third dance and her partner is inquiring whether to bring her a glass of wine that Damon appears. "That will not be necessary. The lady is engaged to me for the following dance." Before Bonnie can protest against this high-handed performance, she is swept onto the floor and curtseying to Damon, as he bows frigidly.

It is the daring waltz, newly coming into the ballrooms, where the couples need to be in close contact throughout the dance. Just the thought of it makes Bonnie shiver, especially so when Damon pulls her close, closer than is strictly proper and their ungloved fingers intertwine as he takes her right hand in his left. His other hand burns her waist, through layers of petticoats and dress. She resolutely looks up at his face and makes eye contact. His are flashing with rage again. She is sure hers too possess a similar fire.

And they start.

There are few enough couples on the dance floor that they attract attention. Caroline, dancing with Kol, looks concerned while his face is set in inscrutable lines, his eyes more focused on the couple, than on his partner. But that is alright, her attention is on them too. As is every other person's. There might be others dancing, but Bonnie and Damon, spinning in the centre, the slow sedate turns of the beginning few bars, growing up to a crescendo of movement, are the centre of attraction. Old Mrs. Fleet fans herself with her elegant lace fan. "Good Lord, what are they _doing?_ Such dances would never have been seen in polite company in _my_ heyday!"

Bonnie is not quite sure whether her head is spinning because of the dance, the proximity to Damon or his intense eyes, never moving from her face, even as he twirls and lifts her. He checks and reverses, first clockwise and then anti-clockwise and she follows step for step, as if their bones, no, their minds and hearts and very souls are intertwined and one. Has it been a few minutes since they started? An hour? She does not know. All she knows is that Damon's touch is lighting her up and his eyes are slowly stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within her. Is he truly afraid she might reject him for Kol, that she might put him aside for another man? As if another man can even draw her eyes while Damon lives, perhaps even if he dies. As if she looks at anybody else when he is in the room. In his arms, she feels content, she feels like a feather floating on a gentle breeze, high above the ground. Are their eyes sparring, spitting fire at one another? Even if it is so, their bodies are in complete harmony.

"I cannot tell whether they are duelling or making love on that floor," plain-spoken Jane Donovan says in fascinated tones to her daughter-in-law, who blushes scarlet but cannot take her eyes off the couple.

The music comes to an end on a final mighty chord. The dancers draw apart in order to bow. There is a moment of absolute silence, before the murmurs begin. Damon disregards the sounds, the crowd around him, the reek of disapproval as he takes Bonnie by the fingers and draws her towards a balcony.

"There were a lot of people who just saw that, Damon," she says in a soft voice. "And then, coming out here...it is not _decent."_

"You danced the waltz with me and now you need some air. There is nothing indecent about it. Let me assure you, you are quite visible to everybody, should they wish to see what we are doing. In fact, I can see your aunt directly across the room." He is tight-lipped with anger. "What is the matter, Bonnie? Regretting what happened between us? Are you thinking you would like to be Mrs. Kol Mikaelson after all?"

"Damon, if you cannot be civil to me I am going to leave! I did not want to have anything to do with Kol, he ambushed me at the top of the stairs! Was I supposed to _refuse_ to accompany him down?"

" _Yes, yes_ you were supposed to refuse!" He hisses, drawing so close Bonnie can feel the heat of him through their clothes. "I cannot _bear_ to see you with him in that manner! Do you have any idea what it was like for me, watching you two descend those _goddamned_ stairs like you were a newly married couple, that bastard _oozing_ pride from every pore? He has no _right_..." He chokes, his voice agonized. " _He_ is not the one that fought for you, bled for you. _He_ is not the one who felt like an utter failure every time you wept when we were young. _Cara,_ he..."

Oh, _she_ cannot bear this, the sound of his voice, the look on his face. Why can he not understand that Kol does not matter, that her coming down the stairs with him was an accident of circumstances. Why can he not _trust_ her? Be secure in her promises? She asks him.

Damon groans, pacing away from her and towards the stone balustrade. "As I said before, I am afraid. I am afraid you might one day recognise you made a mistake, that you did not really understand your feelings. You...you were not very certain in the first place."

This time, it is she who draws closer to him, with a sigh. And yes, it hurts that Damon cannot bring himself to trust her, to believe in her, but she must remember that his family has not done much to build his trust in humankind, what with Lily's death, seen by a young boy as nothing more or less than abandonment, and Giuseppe's unpardonable cruelty and negligence. Now, she is part of his family, and although she always has been, in a way, this is different, and it is up to her to prove to him that he is worthy of love and faithfulness and devotion. She gently lays a hand on his arm and turns him to face her.

"I _am_ certain. Damon, I love you. And I choose you. Not Kol or anybody else. You have long been my best friend and now, you are an integral part of me. I _shall_ not turn away or change my mind tomorrow. Now, it is your choice. To decide whether you choose me too. And..." she cuts him off as he opens his mouth. "And that means absolute trust. You have to _believe_ that you are good enough, Damon. And that I do not want anybody else. I cannot allow you to stop me from associating with other men. That is not your right. But you will never have cause to worry about my behaviour with them. Flirting with Kol today was ill-done, but I was angry. It will not happen again, if you can promise that you will give us a _proper_ chance. And a relationship built on trust."

He gives a rueful smile. "I have acted like a jealous freak, have I not? And made a proper fool of myself? I am sorry, Bonnie. I...I just lost my head when I saw you with him. I _do_ trust you, I let my dislike for that man dictate my behaviour. I am sorry, truly. I will try harder, I promise. It will not always be easy, you know I have a certain past. But I shall not let that dictate my future. I love you, _cara._ If you give me another chance, I promise not to destroy it."

"Bonnie," Stefan is standing by the large French doors. He looks guarded. "It would be best for you to come inside now. Jenna sent me to fetch you. It is time to go in for supper."

She looks at Damon uncertainly but he nods with a soft smile. "Go. I will speak with you later." If she was not so visible, she would have liked to go into his arms and sought the comfort of their strength. She thinks they both need it. But, as it is, she goes to Stefan and slips her hand through his arm. Strengthened by his encouraging smile, she turns back towards the ballroom. "Are people talking about me?"

"Yes. But then, they always have. You have a decision to make now. Will you let it bother you?"

Bonnie throws back her head, "No, I will not."

x-x

 **Hope you enjoy that. I don't know anything about dancing so I could have made a mess of the description, I don't know. I struggled with this chapter. Once my exams are out of the way, maybe I'll do a better job. And do not worry, their relationship will not be all angst. There are some sweet moments coming up.**

 **Cara – 'dear' or 'beloved' in Italian**

 **Thank you for all your reviews. Please try to leave one on this chapter too.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Bonnie dear, we are concerned about what happened at the Ellison ball and what kind of effect that might have on your reputation. What you and Damon did...well, it was a rather flagrant disregard for propriety." The morning after the tumultuous evening at the ball sees Bonnie summoned to Elijah's study, faced with a pair of very unhappy parents. Jenna looks uncomfortable with the whole situation, she is disappointed in her daughter and she makes it all too evident. While she, like the rest of Mystic Falls, cannot help but be aware of Bonnie's bond with the elder Salvatore, it is not a relationship she can envision coming to a happy conclusion and she cannot but feel concerned for her. Bonnie knows how Giuseppe Salvatore feels about even the friendship, anything more is simply impossible!

"Momma, we _danced!_ In front of a roomful of people, no less. Everyone knows we did nothing improper."

"Bonnie, your dance, despite being too improper even for the waltz, is not in question," She knows she has done wrong when Elijah looks _so_ stern and yet, in her heart, she cannot find any regret. Why must everybody scrutinise and comment on what she does? Why can she not spend an evening with the man she loves without giving rise to gossip in every drawing room in town? Why is it that whatever she does is always _wrong?_ "It was your time spent with him on the balcony, without a chaperone, that has given rise to questions. Niklaus Mikaelson expressed himself concerned and now Mrs. Mikaelson has written to ask if she may join us this evening for tea. Kol will not wait long, Bonnie. He needs an answer."

"Papa, I _cannot_ marry Kol Mikaelson. I could never be happy in an arranged marriage to a man I do not know and cannot love."

"And who do you think you will be happy with, sweetheart? Damon? You know, Bonnie, _you know_ that his father will never allow the boy to marry you. I can understand how you feel, but you are paving a way for heartbreak if you continue down this path."

"This does not have anything to do with Damon!" _Oh, why_ can they not understand? This is about _her_ wants, _her_ wishes, _her_ happiness! That is not tied up in another person, that affects her and her alone and it is her decision to make. "I simply cannot be comfortable with what Kol is offering me. I know that that is what happens all the time, that thousands of women around the world accept and live in these marriages but that is not for me. I am _not_ any other woman."

" _No,_ you are not! You are not just any other young lady, which is why this is all the more important for you! You _need_ the protection, the support the Mikaelsons are offering you. And this might be your only chance! Jenna is correct, whatever dreams and hopes you might harbour with Damon Salvatore, it is time to give them up. His father will _never_ allow this union."

"Damon is his own person! Giuseppe does not dictate his life. If we wish to get married, we shall and _no one_ can stop us!"

"You are speaking like a child!" Jenna snaps, her patience at an end. "Why can you not realise we are doing this for your own good. Do you think you love him?"

" _Yes,_ yes I do," and that quiets the whole room. "I _love_ him, Momma. Because he _saw_ me when no one else did, he _wanted_ to be my friend and then, slowly he became so much more. We always seek out the other when we need the person we trust most in the world, the one person who understands us better than anyone else. Everything is just _better_ when I am with him."

"Bonnie," Elijah's voice is softer, more empathetic but the firm note has not disappeared. "I understand that you may now feel like you cannot be happy with anyone other than Damon, but do you not think that it is because he has always been here. If you associated with more men, you might come to realise you do not feel as strongly as you think you do at present. You are only sixteen, sweetheart. What do you really know of love yet?"

"And yet, I am old enough to get married?" Her voice is bleak. "To be forced into a union not of my choosing?"

"We are not going to force you, dear," her momma's voice is gentle and Bonnie wants to sink at the tone of sympathy. She just wants to crawl into her lap again and let her fight all her troubles as she did when she was six, to ask Jenna to kiss her aches better. But she is, to all intents and purposes, a woman now and it is her responsibility to bear her own burdens. "It is your choice, of course, whether or not you will accept Kol's proposal. All we ask is that you think on this carefully and that you consider what both Damon and Kol can offer you. And that you meet with Mrs. Mikaelson and her family this evening, with politeness and grace."

And Bonnie must agree of course, for what else can she do?

X

"Damon Salvatore, do you realise how you have shamed me and our family by making a spectacle of yourself with that girl? I cannot hold my head up anywhere in town anymore, hearing everywhere that you made a fool over yourself with that little whore!"

" _Do not_ call Bonnie that!" Damon hisses through gritted teeth, his fists clenched. How he wishes he could simply deal with his father as he does anyone who offers insult to Bonnie, a punch through the face. He simply cannot understand how people can be this blind! How can they fail to see her beauty, her sweet nature? What does it matter, what colour her skin is? It is beautiful. "Bonnie deserves a great deal more respect than you in these parts, old man. She is from the prestigious Bennett family. What standing does a foreign trader have amongst age-old families?"

"How _dare_ you disrespect the Salvatore name in that manner?" Giuseppe might well be having an apoplectic fit as he splutters and chokes. "What will happen to you if I throw you out of my house on your ear, _boy?_ And make no mistake, I shall do it if you continue to dishonour me and remain tied up in that girl's apron strings. I would like to see how you would survive then, useless waste that you are. You would starve on the streets. Would your precious Bennetts give their bastard daughter to a beggar? You are a fool if you think so."

Damon cannot even bring himself to speak. He did not think his father had any power over him anymore. He is perfectly aware how little he matters to his father, how low an opinion his sire has of him but to be told in such clear-cut terms that the man who fathered him thinks him 'useless waste' still manages to hurt. It cuts deep, another wound to add to the many others, those only partially healed by Bonnie. And _God,_ he wants, just _once_ in his life not to be a disappointment. And Giuseppe is not even aware of another bloody lash so carelessly laid on his son's already scarred heart.

"Such a girl should not even be invited to such events, let alone being allowed to attend them. Elijah, such a soft fool, to be so taken in by his brother's little bastard! The thing must be a witch."

"I have borne enough from you, Father," Damon's voice holds the soft deadliness of a predator about to lash out. It strikes a hint of fear, even in Giuseppe's cold heart and the older man takes a step back at sight of his face. "But if you say one more word against Bonnie, I shall not be responsible for my actions. For all your foolish pride, you are so far beneath her you are not even fit to utter her name. Say what you want of me, but I will not listen to you abuse Bonnie and sit silent. Your days of terrorising me are over. You have no control over me or my actions anymore."

"I will cut you off," whispers Giuseppe.

"Do it. If your pride can handle a penniless Salvatore, then _do it."_

The study door slams, the sound of footsteps and then the front door too closes with a bang. Giuseppe Salvatore sinks down into his comfortably padded chair, hands shaking, his wide eyes fixed on the still trembling inkwell and pen-stand.

X

Bonnie surveys herself in the mirror carefully. She thinks the pale pink cotton dress, with its wide crinolines skirts and lace edged bodice and sleeves is too elegant for simple tea, but has been informed that Mrs. Mikaelson is fond of doing things in a grand manner and she must create a good impression. She supposes her scandalous dance and rendezvous on the balcony with Damon has been reported, and so this is the last effort to put her best foot forward. An effort not destined to succeed.

Mrs. Mikaelson is a great deal younger and less sickly looking than Bonnie had expected. She has the same pale locks as her daughter and seems an elegant, ladylike woman. Even her exclamation, "Good Lord, but I did not think she would be _this..._ black!" is elegant.

Jenna, who had risen to greet her, collapses in her armchair again. Caroline and Miss Parker, on either side of Bonnie draw closer to her, as if they can protect her from the cruel words. Elijah's lips thin. And as for Bonnie, she is frozen, halfway between shock and anger. Here it is again, those dreadful words, those horrified looks. Will she never get away from them? Will she never be allowed to forget that she is _different._ What did her parents _do? How_ could they not have thought of the consequences of their actions? And this time, it is soso _so_ much worse, because this is the family she is supposed to be marrying into. This woman stands in place of a mother to her.

" _Mother!"_ Rebekah hisses, shooting a glance in the direction of Elijah.

"Do not 'Mother' me, Rebekah. I must speak as I think. This is not what I was expecting when you told me the girl is a gentlewoman. Why, she is hardly better than a slave. Where is the Bennett blood? I knew her history but as the recognized Bennett heiress, _well,_ this _is_ a shock."

"Madam," Kol cuts in. "I must, perforce, ask you to restrain your speech. It is not such as would be used in polite company."

Esther ignores him. "Come here, girl. Let me see you...Well? Why do you not listen to me? Why does she not speak, Kol? Does she not have a tongue?"

Bonnie gathers every weapon of dignity and pride. She draws herself up to her full height and manages to fill up the entire room with the force of her presence. It is time for her decision and that is easily made. She shall _not_ bear this humiliation for the rest of her life. "I do have a tongue. But yours has not given anyone else a chance to speak since you entered the room. Your attitude will surely be enough of an explanation as to why I am declaring now, in front of all these witnesses, that I will _never_ marry your son." Kol shoots her a sharp look, which she pays no attention to. "I will never willingly go into a family that will look on me with shame and hide me away in a well-decorated prison. Keep your son, Madam. And I shall keep my dignity."

X

"Miss Bennett, _Bonnie,_ listen to me! My mother often says things she does not mean. No insult was meant, I assure you."

"Do not insult my intelligence now, Mister Mikaelson, by offering these empty platitudes," she replies coolly, spinning around to face him. And he must admit, oh what a _glorious_ sight she makes, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed with anger, a few curls tumbling out of the elegant chignon as a result of her departure from the drawing room, like a storm-tossed ship. She takes his breath away and she does not know it. "Bennett heiress? So, it was my money and property that was the motivation behind this charade?"

"Miss Bennett, it may have begun that way but I truly have begun to admire and respect you. I need you to believe me, no humiliation, no disrespect was intended. We...we desperately needed the money, my grandfather left us our inheritances in such a strange way that we cannot touch the money unless we get married. And Mother and Klaus have accumulated such debts! We needed a house, a fresh beginning in a new land but..."

"But you could not lay hands on your own fortunes. Thus, it fell to your lot to sacrifice yourself to the bastard Bennett heiress for the benefit of your family, also gaining access to the massive web of Bennett connections. Well, Mister Mikaelson, not that your story is not fascinating but I would be much obliged if you removed yourself from my presence. And it would be an added benefit indeed if I never had to see you or another member of your family again."

"This has _nothing_ to do with my mother's words! This is all about Damon Salvatore, this entire theatrical performance! You have probably been rehearsing what you would say to me when you turned me down." His temper gets the better of him, but she seems so _goddamned_ high and mighty, so _arrogant,_ he wants to shake her!

The look Bonnie Bennett gives him makes him feel like a worm crawling at her feet. "Had I never met Damon Salvatore, had he never even existed, after that scene in the drawing room, I would not have deigned to allow you to even touch my gloved fingertips, Mister Mikaelson. You did well to keep your mother away these last few times, it would have been better for you if you could have hidden her away till our wedding. Alas for you, the mother revealed to me what to expect from the children."

Turning away towards the window, "It would be wise of you to take your leave immediately," she declares.

x-x

 **In case anyone has an issue with it, let me clarify that I am not against arranged marriages in the modern sense of the word. I'm Indian, arranged marriages are common enough here. What I do have a problem with is the kind of arrangement that used to be practised in the olden days, where the girl had no agency at all.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews on the last chapter. Don't forget to review this one.**

 **EmperorsConcerto – I was not sure about the word myself but it turned out 'freak' is a sixteenth century word.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. A very quick update this time. Not a lot happening in this chapter, but I thought they deserved this break. Do please leave a review if you can.**

 **Chapter 12**

"And that is all that happened last evening," reports Caroline. Stefan has accompanied her on her morning ride, and after a long canter, they are resting for a minute on top of a grassy knoll. She feels like she can finally breathe, away from the oppressing atmosphere of the house at present, out here in the open air with her best friend. She lifts her face to the sun and wind, taking a deep breath, before turning to face Stefan. He looks thoughtful.

"How is Bonnie?"

"She was absolutely humiliated and furious of course. But she behaved with great dignity. She put 'Lady' Esther in her place," Caroline purses her lips, looking out over the fresh green fields. It had rained the previous night. "Horrible woman! Kol ran out after her, tried to speak to her but she must have been pretty nasty to him as well, not that I blame her. The mother was affronted! She said a lot of things about how 'our dear girls back at home would never _dream_ of behaving in such an unladylike manner. _So_ impolite. A servant-like behaviour if _I_ know anything about it.'" Caroline concludes in such a terrible imitation of an English accent, Stefan is forced to laugh despite the seriousness of the matter.

"And is that the end of the Mikaelsons?" Stefan asks cautiously. He wants an answer in the positive _so_ desperately.

"I believe so. Kol rode over once again, this morning, and asked to speak to Bonnie. They talked. But I do not think he will be returning." She looks pensive, tugging her gloves, adjusting the reins in her hands. Caroline aimlessly fidgeting is a Caroline whose thoughts are elsewhere and Stefan remains quiet, letting her work out the tangles in her head in silence. "I think she feels betrayed. It _was_ supposed to be an arranged marriage, yes. But the thought of money never even entered our heads, because all we heard was how their grandfather left them vast sums of money. She liked Kol, he was very good to her and he made her believe that he really wanted them to get along with each other. But the whole family turns out to be so mercenary. It is the duplicity that especially upset her. Bonnie _hates_ lies and underhand tricks. If he had not put up such a pretence, she might not have been so hurt. Angry, yes but at least she would not feel like she had been duped."

"Perhaps he really did admire her. Bonnie is very beautiful and worth a great deal of admiration, after all. He may have been telling the truth when he said he wanted them to get along. I mean, I did not like the Mikaelsons but if Bonnie liked Kol, perhaps she should think of that."

"No. Even if that were the case, he should still have been transparent about his family's financial condition. It was an arrangement from both sides, there were no feelings involved. If he had told her the truth she would have appreciated it more. If they were to live mostly on Bonnie's money till Klaus decided to get married, _Bonnie_ or at least Uncle Elijah should have been made aware of the real state of the Mikaelson accounts."

"Speaking of Klaus," Stefan slips in casually, casting her a quick sideways glance, "Has he said anything? To you?"

Caroline laughs. "He would not _dare._ Uncle was far from gracious and welcoming when he summoned the carriage to take Mrs. and Miss Mikaelson home yesterday. No, I truly think we will not be required to associate with the Mikaelsons outside the obligatory Mystic Falls social affairs henceforth. I am glad. I thought there was something not quite right about Mrs. Mikaelson, that very first day when she did not appear to meet Aunty after her son promised she would."

Stefan hides his relieved grin with great difficulty. Indeed, he is not happy that the elimination of his rival took place in such a terrible manner for Bonnie, but he cannot help but feel almost giddy with excitement about the possibilities of the future. It shall not be simple. As younger son, he cannot look forward to a very large inheritance. Much of the profits from the company are ploughed back into the estate and Damon will need those funds in full. Caroline does not possess very much and he cannot hope to provide her all that she is used to at her Aunt and Uncles'. Giuseppe too will raise problems. He does not like the Bennett family. But there is still a bright ray of light in that it is still the two of them against the world and nobody between him and Caroline. He smiles at her and stretches his arm out in the direction of the Salvatore house.

"Do you want to race me to our stables? And then you can visit the filly I promised you and get acquainted with her."

Caroline lights up before setting her face determinedly. "Alright. But be prepared to loose, Mister Salvatore. On the count of three then...one...two...three..." The sound of gleeful laughter is carried off by the breeze.

X

"Bonnie?" his voice is so soft, so concerned, she must close her eyes against the barrage of tears that threaten to overwhelm her. She knew he would find her today and that is why she came here. To _their_ spot, by the gurgling waters of the stream, where they spent _so many_ hours of their childhood, collecting pebbles, exchanging stories, reading together or simply revelling in the silence. She knew he would come and now that he has, she simply wants to collapse in his arms. To give up this facade of being _strong_ and _controlled_ for a few hours, to not have to hold her head up and smile brilliantly to reassure Momma and Miss Parker and Caroline that she is _alright,_ she is absolutely well when she is not, to forget about her cool meeting with Colum Mikaelson this morning where she assured him that although spoken in the heat of anger, her words of the previous evening still hold true. Damon will take it all away, he will make her forget that the real world exists outside the woods, the world which includes so many more people than just the two of them.

He sits down beside her and after a minute, she leans into his side, setting her head in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, which has always felt like it was made for her. Why did _that_ not alert them to the inevitability of this moment, she wonders muzzily. She is so _tired._

"Are you happy?"

Damon looks down at the top of her head with incredulous eyes. How can she ask him that? "How can I be happy when you are so upset, _cara_?" He can feel her head shake against him, even though his eyes are now on the water.

"You did not like him."

"No, I did not. I hated him. Because you seemed to like him. And that is what makes me all the more unhappy, Bonnie. You trusted him. And he betrayed you. What I would like to do is kill him." He feels her tense. "But I believe that you have dealt with him as you saw fit, and if we can agree on it, we will leave the matter behind."

She lifts her head in order to look at him, a slight smile tipping her lips up at the corners. "You took my words at the ball, to heart. So, you trust me now?"

He tears at the grass with one hand, still keeping the other one around her waist. "I always have trusted you, Bonnie. Never more so than when I laid my heart at your feet and trusted you not to tear it to pieces. You are the _one_ person, other than Stefan that I feel I can give everything for. But I still grow afraid at times, I am afraid of how simple it is for you to make me happy and how appallingly simple it will be for you to break me. And although I know, _I know,_ you would never deliberately do that, I cannot help but feel you could do so much better than me. You deserve so much _better._ You deserve everything."

"I _have_ everything," she seals her lips to his. And it is slow and sweet as they learn each other's rhythms. Damon is so overwhelmingly sensual, it makes Bonnie's toes curl, as he gently nibbles at her bottom lip and takes it into his mouth, his tongue swiping once, twice, thrice across the seam of her lips before she opens them to let him in. As their tongues meet and tangle, sweet and sensual immediately changes to fire and desperation, as lips, teeth and tongue come together in the most glorious dance Bonnie has ever experienced. His breath is warm and his hands hot as they glide down the slope of her neck, across shoulders and down bare arms, until his fingers slide through hers. His nimble fingertips leave goosebumps in their wake as they stroke her collarbones and walk down her forearms. He tastes so _male_ and Bonnie did not know that could be a taste but she is quickly discovering it to be a favourite.

When he breaks away from her mouth to kiss down her throat, Bonnie finally realises that she is feeling a little faint. She also realises that at some point he has scooped her up from the ground and into his lap. She is breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling, in quick heavy pants. As he gently pulls at the thin skin of her neck with his teeth, her breath hitches again and she tugs his hair a little harder than she intends. She can feel him smile against her skin, the cocky wretch! Feeling vindictive and wanting a reaction from him in turn, she leans forward to lick the hollow beneath his ear before nipping the lobe. Damon shudders in ecstasy, drooping forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder. After a minute of simply breathing in each other, Bonnie climbs off his lap. Damon makes a noise of protest, tugging at their intertwined hands but Bonnie refuses to give in to the temptation.

"What did your father say to you? As regards our conduct at the Ellison ball?"

"We do not need to speak about that. Come here, _cara._ I want to kiss you again."

"No, Damon. We need to speak about this. Papa and Momma were most displeased, so I can only imagine your father's reaction. I was correct, Damon. We ought not to have gone out onto the balcony. It was improper."

He groans. "I am tired of being proper."

"When have you _ever_ been proper?" she questions in surprised tones. "Even when we were young, you were always the one who got us into trouble. Do you remember the time we stole the colt from Farmer Hopkins' stables?"

"It was not always _my_ idea. Going swimming in the lake at midnight, originated in your head."

"You are attempting to distract me and it is working," she says severely, beginning to pin up strands of hair that have fallen out of their coiffure due to Damon's fingers and then pausing to pick out bits of grass that have inexplicably ended up in the ebony curls. Damon sighs, before answering, his eyes fixed on her quick fingers.

"He threatened to disinherit me and throw me out on the streets if I even thought of marrying you. Why are you pinning that up? It is only going to come undone again, when I do this..." Bonnie suddenly found herself flat on her back, eyes fixed on ice-blue irises glinting with the same mischief that got the children into a million scrapes. They soften, as they take in the vision of her, laid out on the grass, long black hair streaming on the ground, spread around her face like some kind of dark halo. Her jade eyes laugh at him, and she looks so much more happy and relaxed than he has seen her in a while. The tension seems to have bled out of her limbs and she is glad to surrender to him and his whims.

" _God,_ you are so _beautiful,"_ he whispers, tracing one cheekbone with the back of a finger. Her lips, her eyes, every part of her seems to smile up at him.

"Did you only now realise that? I am most offended! I do not feel I should associate with you any longer," she pouts.

"You would not be able to live without my glorious presence for a _day,"_ he asserts confidently. "You would come back begging, after a tea party, 'Oh please, Damon. Relieve my boredom and save me from death by gossip. I will do _anything_ for you.' And I shall forgive you for leaving me and graciously take you back."

She lays her hand against his cheek, bringing his head down for a series of quick, open-mouthed kisses. She does not know how she could have gone so long without ever being kissed, specifically by Damon. She is quickly getting drunk on them and even the thought of drawing away from him, having to go back to the gloomy Bennett Manor makes her feel miserable. So, instead she revels in the moment, of the feeling of Damon seemingly sipping at her lips. Only once does she draw back to look him in the eye.

"Your father cannot do anything to us. Nor can anybody else. As long as we face whatever life throws at us together, Damon, I will be content. I can withstand anything with you by my side." His eyes are intense as he nods his agreement, pulling her up to cradle her in his arms, as if she is the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she supposes she is.

x-x

 **That's it for today. A lot of it was only fluff, I suppose. My brain's not working. See you in a few days.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Soon, it becomes evident that Mrs. Mikaelson has not taken Bonnie's dismissal of her son's affections well. _Now,_ she begins her calls on her fellow neighbours and almost every afternoon finds her in the drawing room or tea table of one of the good ladies of Mystic Falls. Bonnie Bennett's name has never been far from the centre of discussion at any Mystic Falls gathering, but like the tides in the ocean, there is always an ebb and flow. Now, it is suddenly, once again, a flow. Young women, who had jealously watched Bonnie on Kol Mikaelson's arm at the Ellison ball, titter and giggle over her foolishness. Their mammas flash condescending smiles when they encounter Jenna Bennett in public. Young men congratulate themselves on having steered clear of Bonnie Bennett, the high and mighty Miss of appallingly low birth.

Bonnie's unexpected rejection of Kol Mikaelson, along with her conduct with Damon Salvatore at the ball, gives rise to a flood of rumours and Bonnie is taken aback to realise, on her next trip to the market in search of some fabrics, that a few scrutinising looks are being cast in the direction of, first, her waistline, and then, her left hand. She hears a woman at the bookstore, talking to her sister in a piercing whisper, "I hear Mister Salvatore has threatened to cast his elder son out, for fathering the girl's illegitimate brat. But what else _can_ you expect of her? After all, look at her parents."

Well, Bonnie muses with a bitter twist of her lips, the woman at the very least, was proven correct on part of her conjectures. As she steps out from behind the bookshelf to shoot the two ladies a sweet smile, they glance at her in horror, before exchanging looks of discomfort. With nervous bobs of their heads towards Bonnie, they make a hasty exit into the street.

While the gossipers are destined to be disappointed in their hope for a scandalous, illegitimate pregnancy, an ornament does indeed soon appear on Bonnie's hand.

" _It was my mother's," Damon tells her, holding out the silver bracelet for her inspection. "She gave it to me before she died, for my chosen bride. I think she would have loved you, cara."_

 _Bonnie studies the delicate carvings in delight. "Is that a flower or some kind of symbol? It is not like anything I have ever seen before."_

 _He turns it so the light shines directly on the carving. "It is a fleur-de-lis. That was the emblem of the French Royal family since the twelfth century. It was given to my mother by one of my father's richer clients, after his wife's death. According to him, her ancestors were linked to the aristocracy in some manner. But the origins of the fleur-de-lis are probably much older."_

" _So this is an old piece of jewellery? A family heirloom?"_

" _Well, it is certainly_ somebody's _family heirloom, although not ours. However, my mother liked it very much, she wore it near constantly." He looks at her uncertainly. "Do you want it?"_

" _Yes, yes! I would be honoured to wear it, Damon. Thank you. It is really lovely."_

 _He grins boyishly, clasping it on her wrist ,before gently stroking her pulse point, until shivers chase each other down her spine. "There, that will do for now, until I place another piece of jewellery on your hand. It looks beautiful against your skin." And Bonnie is horrified to find herself blushing._

"Miss Bennett, Miss Bennett," slowly she becomes aware that somebody has been calling her name. And seems to have been doing so for a while. A familiar voice. A person she does not really have any wish to associate with. She glances aroundin great resignation and watches as Rebekah Mikaelson crosses the street towards her.

"Miss Mikaelson," Bonniegreets in a cool voice, as Maria falls back to allow Rebekah to fall into step with Bonnie. "What a surprise."

"And not a pleasant one for you, I am sure. Miss Bennett, I would like to apologise for the actions of my mother as well as my complicity in my family's scheming plans. But I beg you to believe me, above all else, what I truly did desire most was a friend and a sister and I did like you very much."

Bonnie purses her lips together, unsure how to answer. Rebekah has been perfectly pleasant to her, true, but it is also clear that she was most definitely a part of the deception practised on her by the rest of the family. What does she want now? Friendship? How can friendship exist when trust has been broken?

"Miss Mikaelson, I accept your apology. And I forgive you for your part in the whole affair, just as I did your brother when I last spoke to him, the day after your mother's visit. I do not even blame you for the current spate of rumours about me. But if you have come here to press me to accept your brother's suit once again, I must warn you I shall immediately walk away."

"No, no! That is not what I want. This has nothing to do with my brothers. Miss Bennett, let me tell you something. I have always lacked female companionship. And I have always longed for it. The only women I have associated with for any length of time were my mother and governess. When I heard Kol was to be married, I was excited. And I did really like you, Miss Bennet, that first day I saw you. It did not matter to me what your race was, or who your mother was...Well, that is not true. I _was_ taken aback when I first saw you. But then, it ceased to matter. I only wanted a friend." She pauses thoughtfully. "Kol and I did attempt to keep Mother away. She...she does not think before she speaks and she assumes her birth gives her the right to say anything she wants. Nik is like her in that aspect. But Kol and I are not, truly. We admired how you stood up to her that day, because _we_ certainly have never been able to do it."

"I am not sure what exactly you _want_ from me, Miss Mikaelson," Bonnie ventures, after a pause, in a guarded tone.

"I...I do not assume that we can be best friends, of course. I only ask that you not absolutely shut yourself off from my friendship. I _am_ attempting to control Mother, truly. The gossiping and the ill-natured rumours did not _all_ originate from her."

"No, I do not believe they did," Bonnie's voice is dry as sand. "Those I am used to. They rise up every couple of months or so, and then die down again. Thank you for your honesty, Miss Mikaelson. I am pleased you think enough of me to venture the truth."

"Oh, I do, I do. I respect you immensely. And I cannot blame you for rejecting my brother's advances. I would have been angry too, if I were in your place. I was not convinced that it was such a good plan, when Mother calculated that you would not get too many offers and thus, your guardian would not look to deeply into the history of a prospective suitor, and I see I was right. Your uncle loves you very much, to give you such a choice. Not many girls in our situations have that freedom."

"My uncle has fought many battles for my sake. He would not throw it all away to see me trapped in an unhappy marriage."

"I do not suppose Damon Salvatore would allow that either," Rebekah giggles. "He is _beautiful,_ your suitor."

Bonnie stiffens. Rebekah might have turned out to be a lot nicer than she would have thought originally but Damon is a topic Bonnie is not ready to discuss with the people closest to her, let alone a virtual stranger. She nods, looking around distractedly and spots an escape route in her aunt's carriage.

"Damon is not my suitor. Excuse me, Miss Mikaelson, I see my aunt waving to me. I must go. I shall see you later. Believe me when I say, your friendship would be welcome. Perhaps we could even be _good_ friends some day."

X

"Why did you tell her that?" Damon demands in indignant tones.

"Because it is true. You are not my suitor. You are a great deal _more_ than that, true, but a suitor implies the possibility of getting married sometime in the future. We have never spoken about marriage."

"Bonnie, you _know_ we are getting married. Who else would you marry? You had no option but me from the first time I set eyes on you."

"I see. And was the rock thrown at my head a proposal?"

"It was symbolic, _dear heart._ Of the rock I am going to put on your finger, one day."

She ignores the endearment. "You keep saying that, but I have yet to hear a proposal."

He smiles, winds a long ebony curl around his fingers, and leans forward to nibble her jaw, breathing in the heady scent of orange blossom and patchouli on her skin. "You shall hear it, when the time is right."

"Well, even apart from that," Bonnie smiles, turning her head as he aims for her mouth, causing his lips to land on her cheek. She is greatly enjoying this new game of playing hard to get and smirks as Damon groans in frustration, chasing her mouth as she leans away further. "Even apart from that, is not the primary duty of a suitor to woo the beloved?"

"Are you saying I have not been doing that?" Damon exclaims in mock outraged tones. "What do you suppose this is?" touching the bracelet resting on her wrist, "And those?" pointing towards the bunch of wildflowers he has presented her with, that very afternoon. "I kiss you, and use endearments for you, about which, I find it necessary to bring to your observation, you have not reciprocated that gesture of my devotion. What else would you encompass within the meagre word, 'woo'?"

"Alright, _prince of my soul,"_ Bonnie responds, winning a half stifled laugh from him. "What would you like for me to call you?"

"I must deliberate on the matter with great seriousness. It is not a trifle, to be decided so rashly."

"Deliberate well, _lord of mine,_ but I think it would be preferable that you arrive on the answer before my hair turns grey."

"Well...perhaps a kiss might speed the matter along."

X

"And you trust her word? You are going to be friends with that...that spawn of the Devil?"

"Caroline, your best friend is the spawn of the Devil, in quite a literal sense. I do not think that that particular appellation can be given to anybody else. Rebekah seemed very genuine, and she was at least honest about herself and her family. I have no intention of becoming bosom friends with her and letting her accompany me everywhere, but I am not closing my mind to the possibility of becoming friends with her, sometime in the future, of course. As long as the horrible mother is not in the vicinity."

"Well, you may be the sweet sister and forgive her. I shall be happy to be the nasty sister and have daydreams about stewing her brains. Although, I am not sure they would taste very good. Rebekah seemed a little stupid."

"Caro!"

"Oh alright! I shall be charitable. A little bit. Now Bonnie, will you tell me the truth? Has Damon said anything to you?"

Bonnie lifts her silver backed hairbrush, examines it carefully although she knows every detail of the object, puts it down, begins to sort through some ribbons and hairpins, flips through the pages of the book left on the dressing table.

"Yes, Bonnie. You have rearranged every item on that table..."

"Damon says a lot of things to me, Caro. Did you know the filly Stefan is gifting to you is almost ready to be broken into saddle? And Giuseppe..."

"That is not at all what I meant, Bonnie. You know that very well. We have not spoken about this but I was _there_ at the Ellisons. That dance...well, I have never witnessed you and Damon act in that manner with each other previously. And when you came in with Stefan from the balcony, you were upset." She carefully studies Bonnie, who is now flipping the lid of her jewellery box up and down, up and down, up and down. "You can tell me anything you want. If you ever need to talk to me, I will always be there for you. You know that, do you not, Bonnie?"

"I love him, Caro. And he loves me. I do not know why I could not tell you, because I have been wanting to for quite a while. And Momma and Papa know. However, _they_ do not wholly approve, especially Papa. And I need you to tell me that you _do._ Because I am scared. Not when I am with him, I can be absolutely fearless then. But sometimes I get so _frightened._ I feel that this can never end well, that there always shall be too much opposition, too many people who are going to be horrified, too many people saying things about us. And now, I am babbling nonsense."

Caroline steps over and simply folds her arms around her sister. Bonnie smiles up at her.

"You are one of the strongest people I know. _Yes,_ I approve. But it does not matter what I say. It does not matter what people say. All that matters is how you and Damon feel about each other. And you can conquer _anything!"_

"I know," she gives a little laugh. "I have some weak moments. But this is not one, I promise you. I will not let it be."

"Good. This is a new dress. If you had cried on it, I would never have been able to forgive you. Such transgressions are _unforgivable!"_ She skips out of the way as Bonnie attempts to hit her.

"And how goes matters with you and the other Salvatore brother?"

"Well, I have hopes. Stefan does not seem as oblivious as always. He positively glowed with pleasure when he heard of the downfall of the Mikaelsons," Caroline giggles in glee. It is clear she is highly thrilled about Stefan _finally_ awakening to his feelings. "If the Mikaelsons did nothing else for us, at least they made sure those foolish boys came to their senses."

"Amen," says Bonnie.

Caroline grins in the direction of her sister. "Father Barnes will be shocked to hear you say that, Bonnie! Now, what do you say we creep down to the kitchen for an apple pie? I hear Cook made a fresh batch this afternoon."

X

"I will return in a fortnight, _cara."_ Damon has been called away to his uncle's to take care of a certain crisis that appears to have arisen regarding the Salvatore business. He and Bonnie are both unhappy and unwilling to part at this nascent stage of their relationship but Damon is helpless. He _must_ go. "Do not fall in love with another man while I am away, I beg of you."

Bonnie simply laughs and draws him down for another kiss. She cannot remember how many they have already shared. It is almost as if they are reinforcing themselves, arming themselves to the teeth in order to bear the separation. And she wonders if that is perhaps not the ideal kind of relationship. Should it actually, _physically_ hurt to be apart from each other? Is that not a dependency? Will this feeling ebb away? Is it the result of the newness of it all? Or shall it always feel like this?

Bonnie does _not_ want him to leave. She has a bad feeling about the coming days. But Bonnie is used to not always receiving what she wants. And she tells herself that it will all be well. Damon will return soon. And even while he is away, she is well able to look after herself. She has had to learn. She drops back on her feet from her toes, detaching her mouth from Damon's but he groans, following her in order to seal his mouth to hers again. The kiss is sweet and soft and sensual, and this time Bonnie takes the initiative, guiding her tongue over his lips, slipping it in once he opens his mouth. She is shy and nervous, but her eagerness to please him makes up for her inexperience, as slowly she lets her tongue coil around his and her teeth gently scrape his bottom lip.

Damon steps away, panting, finding it necessary to stop their activities before he has her lying on the forest floor, her dress halfway off her body. "I suppose that was a reminder to _me_ not to fall in love with somebody else? Do not worry, love. Nobody else can even compare, no other woman catches my eye." His face becomes serious again. "Be careful, _cara._ Do not get into trouble. And perhaps it would be best to steer clear of _all_ the Mikaelsons at present."

She raises his hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. "Damon, you can depart without worries about me. You should be more concerned about yourself. Take care on the road. As for me, I can assure you, Mystic Falls shall remain as uneventful as it always is."

x-x

 **Did I say a few days? Well, when the writing bug hits you, what can you do? I have already written the next chapter, which is a great deal more exciting than this one. Two chapters in two days! That must be some sort of a record for a lazybones like me. Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. Please try to leave one on this as well. I appreciate the feedback.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I see from the reviews that there was some apprehension about what was going to happen in this chapter. There were some guesses too. But I was pleased to see that none of them came close to the truth. Because this chapter is** _ **supposed**_ **to come as a surprise. And now, without further ado, read on...**

 **Chapter 14**

"Miss Bonnie, Miss Bonnie," Bonnie and Caroline look up in surprise as Maria bursts into the room. They are sitting on front of the fireplace, poring over a volume of Shakespeare's tragedies. "Oh Miss, will you please come down to the kitchen with me? My cousin, Tabitha, from over at the Lockwoods, is here. In a real state she is, Miss, weeping and shaking, saying as how only you can help. We do not know what the matter is, Miss."

Bonnie is surprised. She has met Tabitha a few times and she seems like a sensible girl, not prone to hysterics. She exchanges a glance with Caroline as they both rise to their feet and follow Maria down the stairs. It is clear that the maid is frightened, seeing her steady cousin in such a condition has made her uneasy as well.

Maria has not been exaggerating. Tabitha is a mess. Her head scarf is askew, apron still tied around her waist as she wrings her hands together and weeps. Cook is trying her best to calm the girl down, but no one seems able to coax a coherent word out of her. Bonnie realises, at one glance, that Tabitha is really, truly terrified of something. She looks around once and firmly takes matters into her own hands, sending everybody but Maria and Caroline out of the kitchen, as she instructs Cook to warm a bowl of soup. Then she sits down in front of Tabitha and hands her a handkerchief, waiting for her to talk, while Caroline stands back slightly.

Tabitha's skin complexion is paler than Bonnie's own, giving credence to the rumour that her mother had taken up with a white lover. Her eyes are wide, doe-like and a rich, dark chocolate but at the moment they are too reddened and wild to distinguish their haunting beauty.

"Miss Bonnie, you...you do remember meeting me in the mar...market this evening? You were alone, and I said 'Mi...Miss, you should not be out alone'. And then you spoke to me about my grandma and how well Maria was doing?" As she speaks, her voice has grown steadier. She seems to be finally regaining a hold of herself.

"Yes, yes of course. Tabitha, what is the matter?"

"I did not do it!" She bursts out in a high-pitched wail. "Miss, I swear I did not. She came to me, she asked me...but I said no, it was too late. But Letty said Denise discovered her body, and Denise had come with her and Denise does not like black girls, Miss and Denise will tell them I did it."

"Tabitha, calm down. You are not making any sense. Whose body?" Bonnie can feel a chill running down her spine, she has a terrible feeling, a keen sense of foreboding about the next words that are going to come out of her mouth.

"Miss Phoebe, Miss Phoebe Lockwood's!" cries Tabitha, in tones of clear horror. There is a muffled exclamation from Caroline and a loud clatter as Cook drops a ladle. "They found her body, Miss. A scarce hour ago. She was in her bedroom, on the bed, lying there all covered in blood. Letty, she is one of the other house slaves, she came running to tell me where I was, in my grandma's hut."

"Phoebe...Phoebe dead? How?" gasps Caro in shock. Nobody else in the room can bring themselves to open their mouths. Bonnie feels as if the room is spinning as she leans forward, reminds herself to breathe. Phoebe Lockwood, all of seventeen years old, one of the few girls who had actually never been unpleasant to her. She had met Phoebe only a week ago, the girl had seemed a little paler than normal, yes. But she had been perfectly polite, acted quite ordinarily. And they are to believe she is now gone? Snatched away by some sleight of hand of destiny? How? Why?

"She did it herself, Miss Caroline." Tabitha explains earnestly.

"Phoebe killed herself? I find that impossible to believe!"

"No, no. She was with child, you see. She wanted to rid herself of it."

If a pin were to drop in the large, cavernous kitchen, every occupant might have been deafened by it. In the middle of the stupefied silence, the kettle Cook had set to boil goes off with a piercing whistle. Maria moves in a daze to take it off the fire. None of the others move, as they gaze at Tabitha, who has begun to sob again, in dumbstruck horror. Bonnie's mind is working fast, a million different thoughts flying through them but she cannot utter a word. It is as if weights are tied to her tongue.

Slowly, she drags herself back to face the current problem. "But why will they blame you, Tabitha? What did you have to do with it?" Tabitha does not answer, only buries her face in her apron, and cries harder.

"Tabitha knows a lot about plants, Miss." Maria's soft voice takes them all aback, as they turn to face her, her concerned eyes are fixed on her cousin. "They call her a witch. In the village. But she only knows certain medicines and such-like things, like her mamma taught her. The girls go to her, if they have such problems, Miss. She gives them herbs and drinks to take."

Caroline's sharp intake of breath and low moan as she buries her face in her hands reflects Bonnie's feelings exactly. If that is the case, if Phoebe did go to Tabitha, she is not sure what will happen now. A black woman, and a slave girl at that, laying a hand on a white woman, spells certain death. Tabitha may argue till her tongue fell off that she did not lay a hand on Phoebe, but without any witnesses, who was to believe her?

"So, Miss Phoebe came to you? She told you she was with child and she asked you what she could do about it?" She feels terrible, probing into the matter like this, when Tabitha is clearly in a terrible state, but she must! This may well be a matter of life and death.

Tabitha nods with a despairing sound. "Yes, Miss. Last week. I told her, Miss, _I told her_ I could not help her anymore. She was past three months, it becomes dangerous after the first few weeks, Miss. I said to her nothing could be done. She must have the baby, and then perhaps she could give it away. If she stayed inside the house then nobody would need to know. But she said Papa would kill her and she wept and sobbed, Miss. And after I still would not agree, she left. I never thought...I never thought she would try anything herself, Miss. Honestly. Otherwise, I would have told the Missus."

"And she was not alone? She brought her maid along, when she visited you?" Bonnie questions urgently.

"Yes, Miss. Denise, her personal maid. She is French, Miss. Doesn't like the black girls at all. She will say I did it. And they will believe her. Plenty of the other slave girls know Miss Phoebe visited my hut, Miss. They would not tell themselves, but Mister Lockwood...he will _make_ them tell."

"And Letty told you they had found the body? Did she tell you whether Denise has started talking yet? Does anyone know where you are?" Caroline has begun to recover and now, she is all business. Her natural tendency to organise matters, to deal with any problem swiftly, to do whatever is needed at once, asserting itself. Getting to her feet, she begins to pace around. "You should not have run, Tabitha. It will be taken as a sure sign of guilt. However, perhaps we can salvage this."

"We must get you out of Mystic Falls. As quickly as possible," Bonnie adds, her mind racing. "There is a delivery wagon leaving for the coast tomorrow at dawn. Thomas can take you along and put you on a packet, leaving for the north. Yes," she nods, "the north will be safer. Should we tell Papa? No, he must not have to lie to Mister Lockwood. He must not have any knowledge of this at all. Caroline and I can gather together enough money to get you comfortably to Canada. You have family there, do you not? Family who shall take you in?"

Maria nods swiftly, "Yes, Miss. An aunt and uncle. I have a letter from them too, so Tabitha will know where to look for them."

"Miss Bonnie, we cannot keep Tabitha here," Cook puts in, pausing the rapid building up of plans, momentarily. "Everybody knows Maria here is her only family, other than her old grandma. This is the first place they will look. If she is to hide till tomorrow morning, we must put her somewhere else."

"Yes, yes Cook. How long ago was it that the body was found, Tabitha? Since you have been gone? Have they started searching yet?"

"An hour ago...perhaps an hour and a half...I do not know, Miss Bonnie! I am so terrified! If they catch me, you will testify I was at the market, will you not? I _spoke_ to you. I could not have laid a finger on Miss Phoebe. I was not even on the Estate!"

"Yes, we know Tabitha. We believe you did not hurt her. But I fear my word will not count for much. And even if it did, I was not with you the entire time. The magistrate could well believe you carefully selected me as a witness, allowed yourself to be seen in public, and then left to do the deed. No, we cannot allow it to come to that, especially after you ran away. Mister Lockwood might not even allow it to come to a magistrate, he might choose to deal with this on his own. Oh _God!_ "

"The shopkeepers, store owners..."

"Store owners can be bought. Or bullied. And not to poke at a raw wound, they would not stand by Bonnie, let alone you, Tabitha," Caroline interjects.

Bonnie has stilled, her head tilted towards the front of the house. "What is that noi...Momma!"

"Bonnie, Caroline! What are you do...Tabitha!" Jenna goes ashen. All colour bleeds from her face to the point that her nieces step forward hastily, in order to catch her should she fall. Her wide eyes are fixed on the young slave girl, who shrinks back, looking like she wants to disappear, to sink into the ground, become part of the walls, _anything_ but stand here and face this woman who looks at her with unconcealed horror. "Is it true then? John Lockwood is here, talking about...about murder. He wants to search the house."

"No! No, you cannot allow him to do that. Momma, Tabitha is innocent. _Please,_ you must tell Papa Mister Lockwood must not be allowed into the house."

"No, that will seem suspicious. You must stall them while we get Tabitha away from here." Caroline looks around the kitchen, spots the pantry door and beckons Bonnie over. Tabitha shakily follows.

" _Girls!_ We cannot hide a fugitive from justice. It is simply unthinkable. She must stand trial, like an ordinary person."

"It is not _justice!_ You _know_ she will not receive justice from a white magistrate. She has done nothing wrong. She is as much a victim here as poor Phoe...Phoebe."

"Phoebe?" Jenna seems to sway, catching herself on the kitchen table. "It is Phoebe who has been mur...I mean, died?"

Before Bonnie can answer, there is a loud shriek and the sound of a crash from the direction of the pantry. Arriving on the scene, the other woman are shocked to behold Tabitha struggling in the arms of a large burly man, while Caroline demands that he put her down. A broken shelf and an array of shattered pots lie strewn on the ground, displaced by Tabitha's heroic struggle. Two of Lockwood's men stand behind her captor, faces grim and unforgiving. It appears that even as he was arguing with Elijah about his right to search the house, he had sent his men to keep a watch on the perimeter, so no one could get away unnoticed.

"Here, gentlemen," Jenna asserts in a firm voice, suddenly taking charge. "Put the girl down and let us discuss this like civilised people. I cannot allow you to manhandle a young woman in _my_ home."

"Actually Mrs. Bennett, _do_ forgive me but..." Lockwood appears on the scene, around the side of the house. Elijah is behind him, confused and taken aback. John Lockwood's face is set in grim, hard lines and Bonnie suddenly remembers that the man has just lost his daughter. Alas, she feels she could have felt greater sympathy for him if he had used his grief and pain to properly moan, rather than setting out on the path of vengeance. "You do not have the right to prevent me from taking the girl back with me. She belongs to me and I will see that appropriate justice is meted out."

"I did not do it, Mister Lockwood. _Please,_ master. I _promise_ you. Miss Phoebe, she did it herself. You cannot believe Denise."

"Hush Tabitha, you are becoming hysterical," Bonnie swiftly intervenes, seeing Tabitha fall deeper and deeper into a mire from which there is seemingly no escape. "It is true, Sir. I met Tabitha in the market this very evening and spent a good few minutes speaking with her. She cannot possibly have had anything to do with this tragic accident."

"It was no accident, Miss Bennett, but cold-blooded murder. Now, if you will excuse me for saying this, this has nothing to do with you. I will take her home and deal with the matter without any further interference."

Bonnie thrusts her chin up, stepping forward. If everybody else, all the adults will remain quite, then it is _her_ duty to say something, to stand up for this poor, frightened girl who is utterly blameless, who has simply been thrown headlong into a situation far beyond her control. "How can you say this has nothing to do with me?" she damands. "I am a witness, I can settle the matter. Prove her innocence beyond doubt."

"In any case, John, the girl needs to be brought before the magistrate. As this is a serious crime, if it is indeed a crime and not an unfortunate accident, it may even be necessary to take this case to the high courts. As it is, you cannot take her home until this entire matter is untangled and sorted out," Elijah says, quickly inserting himself between his daughter and John Lockwood, hiding her from the view of the enraged man.

"I can do whatever I want," Lockwood declares stubbornly. "What do you mean by accident? Are you trying to say she killed herself?" he questions illogically.

"Mister Lockwood, master, she was with child. _Please_ sir, you must believe me. She came to see me to ask what she could do and I said it was too dangerous, and she must not do anything to hurt the baby or herself. Please, you _must_ believe me. I would _never_ hurt Miss Phoebe."

"Shut your lying mouth, girl!" Lockwood responds with a swift backhanded blow across the girl's thin face, sending her slumping in the arms of the man still holding onto her, and instigating sharp cries from Bonnie, Caroline and Jenna.

"Lockwood, that is enough." Elijah snaps, suddenly furious. "It is late and not the time to deal with this kind of a situation. Tabitha shall stay here, on my property, tonight. She shall be taken, alive, unhurt, _un-abused_ to the magistrate tomorrow morning. And _he_ shall decide what is to be done."

"And how do I know you will keep your word? That you will not help her flee? Am I to trust the word of a man who is the guardian of a half black bastard?" Lockwood spits.

Elijah's voice is frigid as ice when he answers. "I am a man of my word. However, if that is not enough for you, I shall lock her up in the wood-shed. Two of your men may remain outside it to make sure she does not escape. But the key to the door shall remain with me. Tomorrow, I myself shall take her to the magistrate."

Lockwood is clearly unhappy with the arrangement. But he listens. No matter what he thinks of the situation, Elijah Bennett is not an enemy he wants to make. So, he listens. And he agrees. But if Tabitha thinks she can escape this situation with no harm done, he shall make sure to soon rid her of her delusions. She will not long hide behind the skirts of the bastard Bennett heiress.

x-x

 **I bet nobody saw that coming. But how could I write a** _ **Belle**_ **inspired story without a court case? There is a lot of excitement, yet to happen. But this is not going to be a very** _ **long**_ **story. Hope you enjoyed this. And please try to leave a review. Also, I would be interested to know if anyone** _ **did**_ **sort of foresee this.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I am so sorry about the long break. I've just been very busy. Plus, my laptop has been giving me trouble. But I have some free time on my hands now so, hopefully, quicker updates. Thank you for all your reviews.**

 **A warning: This chapter is rather dark, with mentions of overt racism, lynching and beatings. If these are triggers for anyone, perhaps it would be best to avoid it. Now, let's jump straight into it.**

 **Chapter 15**

"I cannot sit here like a good little girl and wait any longer. Not doing anything and simply wondering what is happening to poor Tabitha is fit to drive me mad. Come Bonnie, let us walk down to the marketplace," Caroline exclaims, throwing her lacework aside and leaping to her feet.

Elijah had left, along with Tabitha, after breaking his fast that morning. The magistrate would not be happy to receive visitors so early in the morning but Mister Lockwood could no longer be held back. He was thirsting for revenge, driven half mad with rage and loss. The girls have, since then, attempted to put their minds to their lessons, their sewing, books and puzzles but nothing works as a fit source of distraction. They are too concerned for Tabitha's state and her future.

"I do not know if that is wise at this moment, Caro," Bonnie replies carefully. "The marketplace must be humming with talk about the events of last night. I do not feel we would be a welcome presence there."

"Nonsense! We have a right to go to the market if we wish to, do we not? Come along, Bonnie. Do not tarry."

Bonnie is correct. The market buzzes with whispers. Women flit across the road to intercept their friends and neighbours with the latest news. Men stand around in street corners, their foreheads pulled into heavy frowns as they speak in hushed tones. A young, black servant girl walks down the street and is greeted with cries of "Witch!" from a group of schoolboys. She casts a frightened glance in their direction before hurrying away down a side alley.

There is a loud crash from halfway down the High Street and Bonnie and Caroline turn around just in time to see the fruit-seller serve a sharp backhand to Sarah, one of their own kitchen maids.

"Thief! Stealing apples, are we? That is what you were made for, you black spawn of the Devil, were you not? Thieving! Stealing fruits, stealing money, stealing _lives!_ Stay away from my wares, witch!" The man is spitting and hissing, his rage evident for all to see.

"P...Please, Sir...I...I di..."

"Here, Sir!" Caroline sweeps, in a show of majestic command, towards the pair, who are rapidly attracting a crowd. A whispering, pointing, scowling crowd. It is clear whose side they are on and the presence of the two Bennett homestead Misses makes not a whit of difference to them. "Unhand her at once! Sarah is an honest, hardworking girl. How dare you make such accusations about her in public! I am sure she was going to pay."

"Yes, yes Miss," the girl sobs in relief at the sight of her mistresses and, pulling away from the man, shoves a handful of coins in his direction, far more than the actual price of the apple. "I am a honest girl, Miss. Cook sent me for some apples for some pies. I'm not taking anything. I'm not stealing, Miss! Please, Miss, please do not ask me to leave."

"There, there Sarah," Bonnie pushes through the crowd in order to reach the girl. "Do not cry anymore. We are not accusing you of anything. Here, come, take the apples and go back to the house. Ask Cook to send Eliza to the market for a few days, not any of the black girls." She quietly manages to soothe the girl, acquire the apples from the seller and coax her on her way home, all the while aware of a simmering hostility from the angry crowd still gathering around her.

"If you would heed the advice of a man who has seen much more than yourself, Miss Bennett," the draper, who has come out of his shop, speaks up. "You and your family would rid yourselves of all those black girls you have working for you. And for payment, too! They're nothing but trouble, yesterday only proved what all of us have always known."

"I suppose you mean my uncle should rid himself of my presence as well, Mister Clarke," Bonnie responds in icy tones. "Yesterday has proved nothing. Poor Tabitha is being wronged by John Lockwood. You should know better than to trust whatever rumours you have heard."

"I would be careful if I were you, dear," Mistress Clarke adds. "I hear her cousin is ladies maid at your house. Blood always tells!" This is addressed to wagging heads and murmurs of assent as she glances around the circle with a dramatic flare of her hands. Her voice drops to a hushed whisper, prompting the crowd to lean forward with held breath. "Do you two not fear for your lives?"

"Madame, let me assure you that what you have been hearing all morning is far from the truth," Caroline asserts. "Tabitha had not laid a finger on Phoebe Lockwood. How could she? She was here in the morning. You must have all seen her."

Feet shuffle, eyes turn downward, darting here and there, faces turn away from the two girls.

"There are many of those girls coming to the market. We do not know their names or who they belong to," someone from the back finally ventures. A blatant lie, since the number of black girls who come to the marketplace are few and far in between.

"All we know is that they are all liars and cheats," a boy chimes in.

"And witches! They practise filthy devil worship. My sister went to that Tabitha girl for a potion, poor foolish little thing, that Mary. She was violently sick, she was! Near to dying! And Mother and I, so worried!"

Murmurs break out. Whispers of "Liar" and "Thief" are now interspersed with talk of witches, and the latter seems to be gaining momentum. Bonnie and Caroline exchange glances in apprehension. They can feel the shift in the atmosphere. A change has suddenly and swiftly taken place. The curious, gossiping mood from before has now turned into something that is less harmless, something darker and more frightening. And it sends shivers down their spines.

In the middle of this ugly mood, a loud cry from the top of the High Street breaks up the little group and the girls are no longer at the centre of an angry, muttering, seething circle. In a dizzying flurry of movement, they are left behind, on the edges and that position has been taken up by someone else.

Caroline's fingers dig into Bonnie's arm almost painfully. "Tabitha!" she murmurs.

Bonnie has to push her way through the crowd, towards the front, Caro on her heels, in order to witness what is happening.

Tabitha looks woefully small, flanked by two hulking men. She is pale-faced and frightened as she studies the angry faces around her, shrinking further into herself. Bonnie wants to go to her and wrap her arms around her, carry the older woman far away from this cruel town with its cruel inhabitants, to a place where she will not be condemned simply for the misfortune of circumstances. She feels helpless and ineffectual, being forced to watch this mockery of a grand procession from the sidelines, particularly so when a rock comes sailing through the air, striking Tabitha in the arm. The girl gasps and flinches, instinctively stepping back. The two men draw closer on each side, grasping her arms roughly in order to keep her moving.

"Witch!" hisses a woman from the side of the road.

As Tabitha turns to look at her in bewildered helplessness, another cry rises from the back. "Murderer!"

"She killed a mere child!"

"Scourge her!"

"Burn her at the stake! Burn the witch!"

"Witches ought to be drowned!"

" _Enough!"_ Tobias Fell, the magistrate, finally steps forward. "There shall be no more of this meaningless brutality. The girl shall stand trial and all decisions regarding her fate shall be made by me alone. I shall hear witness accounts and I will decide her fate. Till then, if I hear anyone has attempted to harm the girl, their fate too shall be decided by me." He turns to his men. "Lock her in the courthouse. And no one should be allowed near it, ill-wishers and well-wishers alike!"

This edict is greeted with a moment of stupefied silence before the crowd hisses at him and at the retreating back of the prisoner. A few rotten fruits are thrown in the direction of the poor girl as she is marched toward the little courthouse. The Mystic Falls courthouse has hardly ever been used. It certainly has no adjacent holding cell. Bonnie supposes that the only reason Tabitha is being kept there is because Mister Fell cannot trust John Lockwood to produce the girl at the trial unharmed. However it does not seem that her current abode is completely safe from attack either. The crowd follows behind Tabitha and her guards, still hurling abuse and other things, in direct violation of the magistrate's order. As he turns around to speak to Mister Lockwood, it is evident he is not greatly bothered by this. And Bonnie and Caroline suddenly find their uncle standing in front of them.

"Why did you come here today, girls?" Elijah is displeased, but they can tell that that is simply a mask for his worry and anxiety. "It is not safe today. Surely you must have known that." His eyes dart around the crowd around them and then he gestures towards Martin, their coachman, to bring the coach around. "I must speak with Mister Lockwood and Mister Fell, but I want you to _leave_ now! Tell your aunt I shall be back later."

"But Papa, what happened? What will happen to Tabitha? Did Mister Fell believe her? Shall I be called on to give evidence?"

"Not if I can help it," he declares firmly, in reference to her last question.

"But Papa...I want to! Tabitha should have at least one truthful witness, not influenced by Mister Lockwood's money and power."

"Not now, Bonnie!" he snaps. She gazes at him, affronted. It is very rare indeed that he has spoken to her in that manner and she _hates_ it when he does. "We shall speak about this later, sweetheart." He hurries them to the carriage that Martin has brought around. The streets are still filled with fuming groups of people, casting looks in the direction of the small courthouse. Their thoughts are clear on their faces, but they do not dare directly attack it as the magistrate's men take up their positions in front of the doors. Elijah hands his wards inside swiftly and closes the door with a sharp sound, nodding up at Martin, who takes off without a backwards glance.

X

Once back at home, the girls find Jenna in the middle of another problem. Maria stands in front of their aunt, looking worried but defiant at the same time, her hands tightly clutching her brown dress.

"Maria," Jenna sighs. "I can understand your feelings on the matter, but we cannot simply take your grandmother in. I want to, please believe me on that, I agree with you that you must take care of her now. But the fact of the matter is, that she is John Lockwood's slave, Maria. This would be considered stealing!"

"Mistress," Maria's voice is soft and pleading, "If Master could buy her off? You can take it off my wages. I do not need them! Mister Lockwood would take out his anger on Nana, Mistress. I know it. And she is so old and weak, she would not be able to survive the slightest ill-treatment. Please, Mistress, I beg off you. She needs me!"

"What has happened, Momma? Maria?" Bonnie questions, taking off her hat and laying it on the table, before coming forward. "What about your Nana, Maria?"

Jenna sighs, "Maria went to the Lockwood Estate this morning and brought her grandmother away. She wants us to buy her off Lockwood."

"Well, I do not see the problem, Momma. She must be so old, what use would she be to Mister Lockwood? And did she not belong to my grandfather in the first place?"

"Yes, yes. But he sold her to John Lockwood's father, along with her younger daughter. That is how Tabitha comes to be _his_ slave. Your grandfather kept her older daughter, Maria's mother. Your Papa granted her and her family their freedom when he inherited the Estate."

"I simply do not understand this talk of buying and selling people! As if they are horses or cattle! How can human beings behave with their own kind in this manner!" Caroline looks frustrated and angered.

"The answer to that is simple," Bonnie shrugs her bare shoulders, incurring a frown from Miss Parker in the corner of the room for her unladylike behaviour. "They do _not_ think of us as human beings. But Maria's Nana must stay here, Momma. She simply _must not_ be left to Mister Lockwood's mercy. He will be angrier than ever over the magistrate's decision to carefully judge the case himself. The Lord alone knows what he might do."

"How do you know of the magistrate's decision?" Jenna frowns.

"We were down at the market when they came to the court house. There shall be a trial. Uncle Elijah made us come back home before we could learn when," Caroline states carelessly, not noticing or perhaps choosing to ignore her governess and aunt's paling faces.

"You went down to the market? Today? All by yourselves? Girls! What am I to do with you!" Miss Parker wails. "Running around the countryside! Walking down to the village alone! Cavorting with those boys! Did you not realise how dangerous it was to be out today? Did you see any other young ladies roaming the streets, with the town in such furore?"

"We could not simply sit here and do nothing!" Caroline cries defensively. "We had to do something, hear the news. But, now is not the time to speak of our actions. We must decide what is to be done about Maria's Nana."

Jenna massages her temples as if she can feel a severe headache coming on. "She can stay, Maria. You may look after your grandmother. I shall speak to Mister Bennett."

X

The trial is scheduled for the next week as Mister Fell must needs travel to one of his other properties on urgent matters immediately and cannot make time for a young slave girl before that. It does not matter to him that she will spend the intervening days in a fever of fear and apprehension, waiting for an inevitable execution. It does not matter to him that every day that passes with her still alive and in town poses a greater threat to her life from an angry mob. The only reason he is taking any sort of interest in the case is because Elijah Bennett seems to be a staunch supporter of the girl and condemning her out of hand would not sit well with one of the premier personages of the little town. It certainly does not matter to him that the day after his departure, a slave settlement near the back of the Lockwood property is torched. Nobody dies, but a few sustain terrible burns.

Those responsible for the fire are never discovered.

One morning, people wake up to find every window of the courthouse has been shattered. Tabitha is discovered crouched in one corner, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, when Elijah and John Lockwood finally make their way inside, her skin scratched and torn up. Lockwood leaves without a word, and it is left to Elijah to have the woman, who brings in her food every morning and evening, clean and dress her cuts.

The inaction during this week of stagnation has people clawing their way up the walls, filling in the time with more and more destructive acts. Black women, any who still have the courage or are obligated to step outside are greeted as "Witch" and "Mistress of the Devil". A young slave is almost whipped to death for a minor mistake before his master regains control of himself and stops just short of his death.

The town writhes and burns in a suddenly renewed fever of prejudice and discrimination. When a couple of slave boys react to a beating by burning an entire field of crop and then running away, the entire town rises up in outrage and organises teams to hunt them down. They are never found. Or if they are by any of the hunting parties, their bodies are not returned to their families or employer.

Bonnie, in the wake of all of this news, feels restless and frustrated. She is confined inside the homestead, strictly forbidden by Elijah to venture even to the woods and creeks that she usually frequents, let alone the actual town. Caroline has been down the High Street once, accompanied by Miss Parker and her report on the state of the courthouse with its broken windows has Bonnie yearning to find some small way to comfort Tabitha. All she can do is visit her old grandmother in Maria's room and assure her that matters will soon be settled and all will be well. But the poor old woman's presence too is a reminder of their troubles and Papa's further falling out with John Lockwood.

Two days before Mister Fell's expected return and the trial, Bonnie's source of comfort and support returns, in the form of Damon.

X

Bonnie is laid out on the grass below the peach trees, gazing up at the sky glimpsed in bright blue patches through the leaves when she feels a presence behind her. Tilting her head, she becomes aware that her tardy sweetheart has returned and walked up to her without her noticing, with that graceful, silent tread he had perfected in boyhood itself. In a moment, Bonnie is on her feet, her arms around his shoulders, her face pressed to his neck, breathing in the scent of wind and leather and fresh hay and something that is simply _Damon._

"You are late. I was angry and then I was worried...but now, I am simply glad you are here with me," she sighs into his skin, feeling his arms tightening around waist, drawing her so close they might just be one person. She lifts her head and immediately he brushes his lips against hers, once, twice and again. It is soft and so, _so_ tender. It is no more than that, no touch of tongue or teeth but that gentle touch, along with the look in his eyes lets Bonnie know how much she means to him. How ready he is to stand by her through this time, and to fight alongside her if needs be.

"You were right to worry about the road," he murmurs against her mouth. "It was not good travelling. The recent bouts of rain have made them nigh impassable." He buries his head in her shoulder, hides his face in her neck, sniffs at her skin. "It is so good to have you in my arms again, _cara._ It feels like coming home, truly."

She draws back slightly, smiling up at him. "It feels good to be called _cara_ again." Bonnie nestles deeper into his arms, feeling him nuzzle the top of her head and sighs blissfully. "Welcome home, my love."

x-x

 **I hope people are still reading this story. Please do try to leave a review. I would really appreciate it.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey everybody! This is not the trial chapter, but I think this is what people might have been anticipating for a while. I did not like how some of the parts came out myself, but I hope I am just being over-critical and you all do.**

 **Chapter 16**

To say that Damon is concerned when Stefan tells him of the happenings in town on his return is an understatement. He is completely unprepared for the bone-deep fear that assaults him on hearing of Bonnie's presence in the market-place that fateful day. The thought that he could very possibly have lost her forever, without even knowing it makes it difficult to breathe for a moment. And he loves her, and hates her, for it. Her tendency to run headlong into danger for those less fortunate than her, her lack of concern for her own well-being. He cannot _understand_ why she cannot be more careful with her own self, why she will not allow her father or someone else to protect her, why she does not realise that her safety, her health, her happiness is _necessary_ for so many people. Yes, says she, when he informs her of this. But her presence is necessary to Tabitha as well.

"You do not understand, Damon. You do not think of it but _I do!_ That could well have been me! If my father had never found me, if Mamma had not died, had the Bennetts never taken me in, it would have been I in Tabitha's place. But I am not. A series of events has made it possible for me to be in a position of _some_ sort of power, a position of privilege. And how can I not use that for somebody else's good?"

"I understand that Bonnie," he frowns, raising his head from where it was laid on her knee to look her in the eyes. "But it is _dangerous!_ I _know_ you want to go to the trial, that you feel you should be allowed to speak your piece since it can help Tabitha, but do you not realise Elijah is trying to protect you by keeping you away?"

"And what of Tabitha? Who shall protect her? She is _innocent,_ Damon! She has simply found herself in the centre of extremely unfortunate circumstances. Nobody else shall stand up for her but I _must!_ She is being condemned simply for the colour of her skin. I know what that is like and I cannot allow a young woman to die for it!"

"Has nobody spoken to the physician? If Tabitha's story is true, he must know. He must know that poor Phoebe Lockwood died, trying to rid herself of a child."

"Yes, that _is_ being whispered through the town now. But who is to say that she did it herself? That Tabitha did not do it? Besides, Maria tells me that some of Phoebe's jewels have been found in Tabitha's hut. I _do not_ believe she took it. Mister Lockwood is responsible for all these evil schemes!" Bonnie declares fiercely. "He will not admit that Phoebe was with child in the very first place. It is an insult to the family's honour. And even if he does, Tabitha will still be held responsible because she was known to have made potions and herbal concoctions to take care of such matters. It is not for nothing they call her a witch."

Damon rises to crouch in front of her, his eyes on a level with hers, and takes her hands in his. They are cold and he can tell that despite the resolute look in her eyes, she is frightened. Being one of the only people to stand up for Tabitha in this town, seething with fury and terror at the moment, is a dangerous step to take for one such as Bonnie, given her history and parentage. And she knows it. The Bennett name has failed to protect her in the past. It might fall short once again.

In the past, as children, they have faced and stood firm against whispers and murmurs, childish taunts and schoolroom fights together. But this...this is different. They are no longer children. And the town is no longer content to mutter behind closed doors or in the corners of ballrooms. Here, now, they are facing a beast that has the potential to tear Tabitha and along with her, all who stand behind her apart. And they shall begin with Bonnie. The name of Bennett will mean nothing to a maddened crowd. All they will see will be her skin colour.

"Bonnie, _cara,_ listen to me," He lays his hands on her cheeks, turning her face towards him, keeping her close with that single touch. "If the magistrate acquits Tabitha, we shall be met by an enraged mob outside the courthouse, who might well attempt to take matters into their own hands. If he condemns her to death and it is carried out, it will simply feed into the blood thirst of the people, a thirst that will increase." He knows he is frightening her, that the pictures he is painting for her are ugly, but he needs her to understand the truth before she makes a decision that could spell her own destruction. This is not the time for half-truths and comforting words. He feels her shiver under his hands and slides them down the sides of her neck, along her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, before pulling her close and hiding her face in his chest. "I shall stand by you, no matter what you choose. And so shall Stefan and your family. But tell me, knowing this, knowing what I just told you, will you still choose to attend the trial?"

"Damon, do you think you are telling me something I have not thought myself? I am not so naive. But I must go. I must. Even knowing the danger. I might be her only chance, Damon. I could not stay at home thinking that if I had just given my testimony, I might have saved her life. I would not be able to bear that!"

"I would not be able to bear your getting hurt!" He cries out desperately. "These people are not sane at the moment, Bonnie. People who would normally never lay a hand on you, who greet you courteously on the street most days, they go mad amongst other people. These crowds do not have any sense of control. And I would not know what to do if anything happened to you!"

"What would you have me do?" She screams out. "Damon, I know the thought of me in danger scares you. The thought of anything happening to you, of having to live without you terrifies me! But I _cannot_ sit back and do nothing! I am not such a person. And you would not love me if I were made differently than what I am." Bonnie takes a deep breath, runs her hands through his hair, brushes a lock back from his forehead. "You promised to stand by me, did you not? Then _stand by me._ Support me in this decision of mine."

He crushes his mouth to hers in panicked frenzy, as if this is the last time they shall ever meet, as if he will drown if his lips disengages from hers. Bonnie moans, pressing forward, parting her lips so she can pull his bottom lip into her mouth. One hand is fisted in his hair, the fingers of the other curled around his collar so that she can pull him closer, closer, _closer._ And their bodies are moulded to each other and Damon's arms so tight around her she could not breathe even if she were not kissing him but it is still not close enough! Because how can she show her feelings, her mind, her thoughts. How can she show him that she is afraid too, that she does not want to lose him either but she has no _choice_ but to do this.

His fingers are digging into her waist and Bonnie can feel Damon everywhere, his body wrapped around hers, his scent in her nostrils, his taste on her lips, his very _presence_ surrounding her on all sides and even within her stupid heart which is beating so hard, she wonders why it does not just burst. This kiss is nothing like anything they have shared before. _This_ kiss is driven by that most primal, visceral of emotions, fear. She can literally taste it on him and she wishes she could soothe him, could tell him everything would be alright but that would be foolish and untruthful, and whatever Bonnie is, she is not those two things and so she says nothing, and simply gives him what he seems to need from her. A reassurance that she is here and safe and well _now._ A need to get lost in each other temporarily and forget the world outside that is so determined to never see them happy together.

" _Bonnie!"_

X

Was it nothing more than an illusion, a dream that could last only a few moments? In those few moments, Bonnie and Damon had forgotten reality and chosen to embrace happiness and love and _need._ But the reality is they are not apart from the world. Reality is that their love is not acceptable in the eyes of society. Reality is the angry man who stands before them now, his very real, very palpable rage struggling to be hidden under a cold, stern facade.

"Bonnie, I thought I made it clear that I would not stand for you pursuing a relationship with this young man. And yet, I find you in the orchard, in broad daylight, shamelessly engaging in unspeakably vulgar behaviour with a man who is not your husband! Do you realise what a spectacle you could have made of yourself? What would have happened if it was a servant and not I that had ventured into the orchard today? You two have acted in direct violation of the wishes of your respective families and in selfish disregard for anybody's feelings but your own."

"Papa, I love him! And he loves me! Nobody else's feelings on the matter need arise. He is completely eligible and appropriate as a suitor. I do not understand why you harbour such prejudice against Damon!"

"It does not matter to you that Damon's father shall never stand for this match and shall directly disinherit him, if he hears of this? It matters to me! I have gone to great lengths to give you a good home and see that you are brought up as a daughter of this house. I will _not_ watch you throw away all of it on a man without name, fortune or prospects!"

"Papa..."

"Bonnie, you need the protection of a powerful family. Especially so in light of recent events. Damon," Elijah turns toward the young man, who stands up straighter, his head thrown back. "You are a good man, Damon. And I am grateful for your friendship to my daughter and all that you have done for her. But I will not give her away to a nobody!"

"I was not aware that Bonnie was anybody's to give away. She is her own person. She loves me. She chose me. We would like your blessings, Sir. And that of her aunt. But you cannot prevent us from marrying even without it."

There is a loud gasp from the direction of Bonnie. This is not the first time Damon has mentioned marriage, but to see him bring it up so casually, in front of her father, stuns her. She casts a frantic glance at Elijah and notices that beneath the veneer of thinly concealed anger, there is just a subtle glint of admiration as he hears the steel in Damon's carefully modulated tones.

She pushes herself forward, between the two men, her face towards Elijah. "Papa, I know that you are concerned for my well-being and that is what makes you speak so, but you need to realise that I can take care of myself. And Damon...he loves me. He can protect me, we both can protect and look after each other so much better than a strange family that takes me in half-reluctantly. How can you forget what happened with the Mikaelsons?"

"I have not forgotten, Bonnie. But you two must surely know that Giuseppe Salvatore will not allow your marriage. Damon, you may say that you care for his permission no more than you do mine, but you cannot deny that you are completely dependent on him. If he disinherits you, and he will...how will you look after Bonnie? Do you want her to throw herself away on a beggar? To waste everything, every rule of convention that Jenna and I have bent and broken so that she never feels herself to be anything but our own daughter? That she never feel that she is any different from Caroline, alongside whom she has grown up as an equal."

"And it is for that reason that you shall give your blessings, Papa. Love is more important than these meaningless rules and laws. That I am standing here, speaking to you so freely, in this manner that _you_ have taught me, proves that. You loved me enough to break laws, and I love him enough that convention and society mean nothing to me." She steps back to stand beside Damon, slides her fingers through his and squeezes his hand firmly. "Damon does not need his father. He has been taking care of the business a long time and he is good at it. Much better than Giuseppe, in fact. It was Damon who realised their factotum had been cheating them for many years. I am confident that he can keep me comfortably, even if his father casts him off, even without my own money."

"Money that you cannot access if I do not sanction it," Elijah reminds her.

"But you shall, Papa. Because you love me and you want me to be happy. And you know Damon makes me happy."

"Sir, if I may speak," Damon, having kept quite so long, decides it is time to speak up for himself. "Your daughter is more important to me than anything else. And more than anything, I want to make her happy. I can understand your reservations. I know my father will not support this. All he seems to be able to see about Bonnie is the colour of her skin. But I am not incapable of supporting her. And I may be a man without name or fortune temporarily, but I shall _make_ a name for myself. And I _shall_ make a comfortable home for Bonnie. This I can promise you."

Elijah's concerns cannot be waved away so easily. He has watched Bonnie and Damon's growing friendship from their childhood years with a sense of foreboding and apprehension. Damon has always been particularly naked about his feelings for Bonnie and that has long worried Elijah, particularly given Giuseppe Salvatore's strained relations with the entirety of the Bennett Household. Elijah may know that Damon is a capable boy and the one person above all others who seems to make Bonnie happy, but he is old and experienced enough to consider the practicalities of marriage. Love will not go a long way without material comforts. The plain truth is that Damon, without the monetary support of his father's trading empire, will not be able to keep Bonnie in the kind of luxury she has long been used to, at least not for a while. It _will_ cause problems, it might sour the relationship and he does not want that for his daughter. And while it is true that the large and extremely prosperous Bennett Estate shall eventually pass on to Bonnie, it will not be until his own death and Elijah cannot visualise Damon either working under his wife's uncle and living in his household or meekly accepting monthly doles from the older man. The boy's pride shall not allow it. Elijah sighs

"This matter is far from over. We shall return to it again once the trial and all entanglements surrounding that has been smoothened out. Bonnie, you shall be coming with me. The magistrate has demanded it. He wants this matter sorted out properly. Damon, if you should choose to accompany us, you shall not be stopped at the courthouse door. After all of this is over, we shall visit this matter again." When Bonnie tosses her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek, with a murmured "Thank you, Papa", he frowns down at her. "That was not permission, Bonnie."

"But it will be," she beams. "I know you are concerned, Papa but you need not be. Everything shall turn out well with Damon and I, you shall see."

X

"Damon, I need you to go down to the plantation this morni..."

"Sir, I shall not be able to go anywhere this morning." Damon's voice is soft but clear. "I am going down to the courthouse for the trial. Bonnie needs me."

Giuseppe stills. His muscles are drawn tight as bow-strings. It seems to take him an age to lift his head and look at his first-born son and heir. He is used to Damon storming and raging, losing his temper, doing something impulsive. But this cool aura of authority that his son seems to have recently acquired, making him seem older and more mature, always manages to make the elder Salvatore uneasy.

"No, you are not. You shall go to the plantation and you shall not set foot in the courthouse until this shameful trial is over. The magistrate making such a fuss over a _slave girl_ is simply ridiculous. Lockwood should have flogged her and been done with it."

"Lockwood would no doubt have been happy to do so, had the Bennetts not interfered."

"Yes, those Bennetts! A curse upon Mystic Falls, with their little black brat pretending to be a grand lady. A grand lady testifying in court too! How perfectly ludicrous."

"You shall, of course, apologise for everything that you just said about Bonnie. I told you I would not bear you speaking about her in that manner and I shall not. It is, in fact, for Bonnie's sake that I am going into town this morning."

"Listen to me, young man! When you were children I did not say much about your friendship with that girl. I must admit, I hoped you would grow out of it. But you are a grown man now, Damon. This relationship you have with her is inappropriate and unseemly. It gives _eligible_ young women the wrong impression."

"If by that you mean that it gives them the impression that I mean to make Bonnie my wife, then they would be correct in assuming so, Sir. Now that I have satisfied your queries, may I leave?"

For a moment, Giuseppe says not a word. He simply drops into his chair, going completely red in the face. He seems to be having trouble breathing and it takes him a few moments to get the words out. "What...what did you say? Your wife! Are you out of your mind, _boy?_ A Salvatore marrying a slave brat! How can you be such a fool as to believe I would allow it." He seems to quickly get his steam back, rising to his feet. "No, no. I have let this idiocy go on too long. _You,_ you shall leave with the shipments for the coast this evening and _I_ shall pay a visit to the little whore."

"Mind your tongue about Bonnie, old man!" _Now,_ Damon is mad. His father may say what he likes about _him._ Damon has long learned he cannot prevent that and has stopped fighting it, but no man speaks about Bonnie in such a manner, be he his father or best friend. "I will not be ordered around by you. I am not leaving Mystic Falls and you are not going anywhere near my future wife. I will not abide it."

"Damon, speak to me with respect. I am your father, for God's sake!"

"When have you acted like it? When have you ever shown me that you care? When have you ever treated me as anything other than the useless piece of garbage that has to be beaten into obedience? And you want my respect now? Have you ever made any attempts to _earn_ it?"

"Damon...Damon, I...I admit I have made some...mistakes, when it comes to your brother and you. Your mother's death...it quite undid me. But listen to me now. Do not make the biggest mistake of your life."

"Bonnie has been the best friend, biggest support, biggest love and biggest joy of my life. One thing she has not been and could never be is a mistake. But you would never understand that, would you. You cannot see the best in your own sons, how can you look beyond the surface of a strange woman?" Damon shakes his head, looking his father dead in the eye. "My biggest mistake has been allowing my longing for your approval and acceptance dictate so many actions for so many years of my life, and allowing you to believe you could control every deed of mine." He looks at the delicate pocket-watch sitting on his father's desk. "I must leave. Bonnie will be expecting me."

And Giuseppe knows, he _knows,_ he is making the biggest mistake of _his_ life and he is going to lose his first-born, whom he does love after all, whom he always _has_ loved, but pride propels him forward. "If you leave this house now, you may never come back."

Damon does not even look over his shoulder, "I expected nothing else from you."

The door closes with a soft thud and Salvatore is left leaning over the desk, his head hanging down. And he has won, has he not? He has won against his son. But it feels like he has lost. It feels like he has lost more than he ever dreamed that he had.

x-x

 **In regards to LunaSolTierra's review, I like that people are so wound up that even non-issues are making them antsy. Nothing is going on with Damon, he is simply worried and afraid for Bonnie, as I hopefully demonstrated in this chapter. If his being delayed was the cause for wondering (someone mentioned Damon meeting someone else?) it was actually very common to be delayed for days or even weeks at a time because of the condition of the roads, in those days. If you thought the reunion was dry, I am sorry. I did not think it was. I thought it was a little too brief maybe, but if I were to put in their entire conversation last chapter, it would have become too long. That's why I broke it off in the middle and put in the rest here. I mostly just wanted to convey a moment of peace and a feeling of safety for Bonnie in the midst of the chaos. I thought I got that through but if not, then sorry!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you to all who have reviewed the last chapter. I am so sorry for the delay since I promised quicker updates. But the trial scenes are kicking my butt! Read on and please try to leave a review.**

 **Chapter 17**

"I apologise for the delay," says Mister Fell, the last person to sweep into the little courtroom. "I suggest we take care of this matter as soon as we can. It is well past time. This town seems to have gone mad in the intervening weeks, while I have been gone." He sits down in a straight wooden backed chair and looks at the people in front of him. The little room is packed with people, witnesses and family seated in the very first bench, onlookers crowded at the back. Tabitha stands off to one side, her posture straight and stiff. One look at her eyes has Bonnie curling her fingers around her skirts. She looks so resigned, so _hopeless_ it strikes her to the heart. Damon silently lays his hand over hers, not looking in her direction, his eyes straight ahead, and squeezes. Something is the matter with him, Bonnie can tell. Stefan too, who looks sober and unhappy, perched on the edge of the wooden bench. But Bonnie does not have the time to discover what now. Tabitha needs her now. All else can wait.

"Mister Lockwood, since you are the one who have made the accusation against one of your slave girls, I would like to hear the entire matter from you, one more time."

"There is no matter to it. That woman murdered my daughter and she needs punishment. I do not understand why there has been such a delay to an inevitable conclusion."

"How long has the girl belonged to you?"

"Since her birth. Her mother came to my father from the Bennetts when she was very young. Tabitha has lived on our plantation all her life."

"And she was a house slave?"

John Lockwood nods, looking grim. It has become clear to him that this will not be as simple as he first thought. The magistrate's behaviour baffles him. He _should_ not be making such an inordinate amount of fuss over a lowly slave girl. Lockwood's jaw sets obstinately. He _would_ not, if not for that meddling Elijah Bennett and his meddling half-breed niece.

"Yet, you still believe that despite what must be years of loyalty to your household, she is responsible for the death of your daughter? Why? Was the girl ill-treated? Did she have any reason for grievance?"

"The girl is a thief! She stole Phoebe's jewels and was planning an escape with her lover. My daughter discovered her. That is why she killed her."

A murmur breaks out across the room. A number of scathing looks are directed at Tabitha from those gathered within the small courthouse. "A witch, a murderer, a thief and now a whore too!" mutters a man sitting two rows from the back.

"Hush!" orders Mister Fell, glaring around the room, before directing a thoughtful glance at Lockwood. "We shall speak about that later. I will need to hear where you get your information from. Now, about your daughter, in the days leading up to her...death, did she seem to behave as always?"

"Certainly! Phoebe was as happy and cheerful as she has always been. What are you attempting to suggest, Sir?"

"And the body was discovered by her ladies maid, I seem to remember?"

"Yes, Denise. She went into her mistress's room that evening. My daughter liked to sleep in the afternoon. Denise discovered her in the middle of the bed, bleeding and came out running immediately. By the time I saw Phoebe, I could tell she had been dead some time. The physician said the same thing."

"Ah yes, I shall speak to the physician. And what was the manner of the death? What happened to Miss Lockwood?"

There is a slight pause, enough to make Mister Fell raise his eyebrows. Lockwood had turned pale.

"I am not sure what you mean. I am not a medical man. I could not tell you the reason for death. Perhaps the physician..."

"Mister Lockwood, I simply ask you the nature of her injury. You say she was murdered? I ask how."

"She...she was stabbed. In the stomach."

There is a swift intake of breath from Bonnie. Tabitha's head snaps up as she gazes straight at her former master in disbelief. The crowd makes a slight noise from the back.

The magistrate studies the reactions. "I see...and you are absolutely certain nothing was the matter with your daughter?"

John Lockwood swallows, sets his teeth, nods.

"These jewels that were missing, did your daughter tell you about them? Or your wife?"

"No...no. Denise told me. Later."

"And you investigated Tabitha's belongings and discovered the jewels?"

"Yes."

"How did you come to know about her lover?"

"Clementine told me," says John Lockwood, indicating a pretty black girl, with unusual looking amber eyes, standing nearby. The girl looks frightened to death, shaking in her place, and actually quails when the magistrate turns his eyes her way.

"Clementine," he begins sternly. "You work at the Lockwood property?"

"Yes, Sir," her voice is hoarse, as if she has spent a long while screaming, or crying.

"Have you known Tabitha long?"

"All my life, Sir."

"Perhaps you will tell us who this young man is and how you come to know of him. Did she tell you?"

"No...no, Sir" Clementine shoots Tabitha a terrified look. Tabitha is staring back at her, her face and eyes aged far beyond her years with grief and sorrow. She shakes her head once and then drops it. "I...I overheard them, Sir. I don't right...rightly know who the man is. They were behind the bushes. But...but they were talking about leaving for the North, sir. And...and, she said she had Miss...Miss Phoebe's jewels."

"You did not think to report this to anybody at the time?"

Clementine looks at a loss. "I don't want no trouble, Sir" she whispers at last.

"And how would she lay her hands on the jewels?"

"Tabitha was a house slave, Sir. The mistress and the misses trusted her. Miss Phoebe would ask her to do her hair on the days Denise had off."

"You did not think it strange, Clementine, that on the day Tabitha finally does fulfil her plans and flees, she neither takes the jewels she worked so hard for nor goes to her mysterious lover, but to the Bennetts?"

"I am sure I do not know why, Sir. Perhaps she became frightened. Perhaps she did not intend for it to go so far. Perhaps she hoped Miss Bonnie might help her. Miss Bonnie has always been good to us girls, Sir..." the poor girl finishes, casting a frantic glance in the direction of the young Bennett heiress.

Bonnie frowns. The girl is very obviously lying, but the question is why? Has Mister Lockwood threatened to hurt her in some way should she not tell the story he has fabricated? What is she looking towards her, Bonnie, for? Support? Comfort?

"Very well, Clementine. I shall perhaps speak to you later. Now I must ask for the other side of this story. Tabitha?"

Tabitha tells her story. The same story she had told in the Bennett kitchen a week ago, but in a much calmer manner. Bonnie is relieved to see that she has recovered some of her level headedness, but the blank misery in her eyes still upsets her. Why is Tabitha so afraid? Does she not see that Mister Fell does not seem to believe John Lockwood. That he may be sympathetic to her cause? True, that might mostly be due to Papa's influence and power. But whatever little thing helps is a victory. It is also true that never before has Bonnie actually heard of a black person in such circumstances being let free but they do not usually have hearings and trials for blacks here in Mystic Falls either. Surely, this is a sign of change? Is it truly naive to hope for a positive outcome? Bonnie does not think so. No, it is not naive. Hopeful perhaps, but not foolishly naive.

"Well, Tabitha, if that is your story, are you saying that Mister Lockwood was lying about the thievery and the young man? And Clementine?"

Tabitha takes a deep breath, swallows and then answers in a clear voice, "Yes, they are lying."

A loud murmur travels around the room, softer however than when Tabitha had revealed the truth about Phoebe's pregnancy. _That_ had caused a few people to stand up and scream 'Liar'! Now, people merely shift in their seats, their unease at this unabashed speaking of a black slave girl making them restless.

"Even Clementine? She who calls herself your friend?"

"I do not blame Clementine for this. She has been coerced into this."

"Very well, Tabitha. We shall perhaps speak of this again later. Now tell me, if you did not have anything to do with the death, if it was not a dastardly plot cooked up by you and your lover, why did you flee?"

"I was afraid, Sir. I was afraid Denise would tell lies and Mister Lockwood would kill me!"

"You learned of the matter when your friend, Letty, came to warn you? Why would she warn you if there was nothing that you had done."

"Sir, I told you. Miss Phoebe came to my hut. She asked me to help her rid herself of the child. The other slaves, they had seen her come to my hut. And Letty, she was near Miss Phoebe's room that evening. She entered after Denise and saw the body. She knew what had happened."

"And what _had_ happened?"

"I cannot rightly tell, of course, Sir. I have not seen the body. But Letty said as how there was lots of blood. I am almost sure that she attempted to...to remove or hurt the...the child by insertion of a sharp object and managed to injure herself. The wound would bleed extensively and the loss of blood would cause death if she was not discovered and treated in time, which she was not."

"Do you mean to say Miss Phoebe attempted to kill herself?"

"No...no, Sir. Miss Phoebe was not knowledgeable about medicine. She would not have known all of this. It was why she kept insisting I help her, even though I said there was too much of a danger to her life. She thought I was afraid because of Master but Sir, I was afraid for her life!"

"And her death did not occur in the manner Mister Lockwood claimed? Being stabbed in the stomach?"

"I cannot say, Sir. But I would not think so. She would not do that, it would almost surely assure her death. Miss Phoebe was not stupid."

"You say you were not at the homestead that afternoon?"

"I was down at the market place, Sir. There were some things that Cook had asked me to get for her. I went to the fruit-vendor and I looked at wares of the man who sells those beautiful cloths from the East. I only looked! And I spoke to Miss Bonnie." The magistrate casts a glance at Bonnie, then nods at Tabitha to continue. "I cannot tell you when Miss Phoebe died exactly, Sir. If what I think is true, it would have been a slow and painful death. But I did not go up to her room, Sir. I swear it. I simply gave Cook the pears and left the house."

Mister Fell looks up at John Lockwood. "Lockwood, where is your Cook?"

He looks sulky when he answers that she is not in town.

"Do you mean to tell me that you have a witness at your house that could confirm the girl's movements and you have not brought her? Sam!" He turns to one of his men. "Go up to the Lockwood House and bring the Cook."

"Now Tabitha, tell me how a slave girl happens to be running free in the market, without any escorts? Were the Lockwoods not concerned about your running away?"

"Sir...Sir, Missus Lockwood trusts me, Sir. On account of my having been born and grown up on the property. My nana still lives there and I took care of her. She is all I have left after mamma's death, Sir. Where would I run? Where would I go? Why would I go? The Lockwoods have always been good to me, Sir. Before this."

"And you betray their trust by stealing their valuables and murdering their daughter! That makes your deed all the more horrific!"

"I did _not_ do it, Sir! I did not. I _did_ not!"

"One assertion would have been enough, Tabitha. One last thing. You have admitted that you work with herbal remedies and potions. People in this town call you a witch, I have been made aware of this fact. Tell me _now,_ confess it now if true. Tabitha, did you lay some kind of spell or curse on Miss Lockwood that would make her behave so?"

"Sir, I am no witch. I have no such powers. If I did, would I not make an attempt to escape?" Her calm veneer finally seems to have broken down. Tabitha is sobbing softly around her words. Bonnie draws closer to Damon and slips her arm through his in distress. He squeezes reassuringly, drawing her in tight against his side.

Denise, Phoebe's ladies maid is the next person called on to testify. She tells the story of finding her mistress in her bedroom and verifies that it seemed like she had been stabbed. The woman seems genuinely upset and distressed and it is clear to all that she was fond of her mistress. When asked about Phoebe Lockwood's visit to Tabitha, she confirms it. But her reason for it is different than the slave girl's.

"Mademoiselle had discovered some pieces of her jewellery to be missing, Monsieur. The very day after my day off, after that girl had attended to her. She took me along with her to confront her but the girl denied it. Mademoiselle, she told her she would expose her to everybody and have her beaten, that she would take the matter to Monsieur Lockwood. The girl was scared, but she refused to tell." she declares vehemently.

"But surely it would have made more sense to take the matter to Mister Lockwood in the first place, would it not, Denise? Or at least to call the girl up to the House to question her? Why would Miss Lockwood go down to the hut to extract such a confession?"

"I...Perhaps...Mademoiselle thought she would find the jewellery down at the hut. She wanted to take care of it herself. She did not want to worry Monsieur Lockwood if she could help it."

"And did you look for the jewellery?"

"The girl denied having taken it. We looked but we could not find anything. It was well hidden."

"And yet it was found by Mister Lockwood's people, after your Mistress's death?"

"They...they must have searched more carefully, Monsieur."

"But you went with the express purpose of looking for the jewels. Do you mean to say you did _not_ search carefully?"

"I...we...we must not have been careful _enough..."_

"Who told your Master about the jewels? Was it you?"

"Yes..."

"And you feel your Mistress was murdered by Tabitha because of her threats to the girl?"

"I know it, Monsieur."

"Well then, Denise, tell me why Tabitha would kill Miss Lockwood alone? Would she not have wanted the other witness silenced as well? Why spare you when you could have told everyone the truth, as you are doing now?"

"I am sure she meant to but...but she did not have time once Mademoiselle's bo...body was found."

"I am sure Tabitha knew the body would be found within a few hours at most. It could hardly be otherwise. Would she not have taken care of you and fled before that? Why leave behind a witness who can talk? It would be the height of idiocy."

"Please, please Monsieur...do not talk in this way," gasps Denise. "It frightens me."

"The life of this girl lies in my hands, Denise. I must speak in this manner, no matter how frightening it is to you. Where were you that afternoon while Miss Lockwood was resti...I mean, in her room?"

"In my room, Monsieur. In the servants' quarters in the attic. As I always am at that hour."

"You were alone?"

"Yes, yes I have my own room."

"And this is well known among the house servants?"

"Of course, Monsieur."

"Well then, I see that Tabitha had the perfect opportunity to kill you, as well! And it would probably have been easier than going into Miss Lockwood's room to kill her. Can you tell me why you escaped this fate, Denise? You must have thought of it, your fortunate escape from the hands of a murderer? Tell me why..."

"I am sorry!" breaks down Denise at last. "I am sorry, Monsieur! I lied! Mademoiselle was with child! It is true, what _she_ said. Mademoiselle was with child and she wanted to kill it. That is why she went to that _sorcière!_ She wanted her to kill the child."

"Why did you lie to me then, Denise?"

"Monsieur made me," she sobs. "Monsieur Lockwood. He...he said, no one must know about the child. It would destroy the family name. He made me...he threatened me..."

Mister Fell casts a malevolent look at the landowner, who now seems to be in a towering temper. His eyes, trained on poor Denise, are about as benevolent as an enraged bear. With a sigh, the magistrate turns back to the maid and commands her to stop weeping. "Now, if you answer my questions truthfully, nobody will hurt you. What about the story of the stolen jewellery. Was that true?"

"No," she sniffs. "Monsieur made me put them there for his men to find. He told me to tell you the stabbing story. He told the physician too."

"And Clementine? Did she lie?"

"Yes, yes. Monsieur Lockwood told her he would whip her brother if she did not tell the lies about Tabitha's running away with her lover. Her brother is not well. Being whipped would have killed him. So she lied."

"I see."

"It could still have been the _sorcière._ She knows about these things, these things about children and pregnancy..."

"But she says she refused your mistress. Did she refuse your mistress?"

"Yes...but she may have changed her mind. Mademoiselle offered her money and more food and medicines for her grandmother. Perhaps she reconsidered. Maybe it was an accident, she made a little mistake and she was scared when Mademoiselle bled so much."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

Denise is silent. She glances at John Lockwood and then steals a look at Tabitha, who is staring fixedly ahead, not meeting anybody's eyes. She looks around the room. The faces around her are set hard, but she cannot tell who they are in condemnation of. Lockwood or the witch? And unscrupulous man who uses his daughter's death as a means of wreaking vengeance or a black slave girl? Denise looks back at the magistrate, takes a deep breath, silently shakes her head. And is dismissed.

The physician is a different type of witness than the others before him. He is neither belligerent like Lockwood nor frightened, like the servant girls. He faces the magistrate looking calm and steady.

" _Dr. Grey, you shall tell the magistrate my daughter was murdered. You shall tell him that she bled to death due to a stab wound in the stomach."_

 _Dr Grey draws himself up with dignity. A tall man, he has no problem looking Lockwood in the eye. "Sir, I shall do no such thing. Your daughter did indeed_ _bleed to death but because she tried to rid herself of her own child. She was most certainly not stabbed."_

" _She did not do that to herself! That witch hurt her. Phoebe would not do such a thing."_

" _For God's sake, man! The device she used lay within her reach! She dropped it as she lay there dying. I can understand your grief, but the servant girl is innocent in all this. You are wreaking vengeance on her for no reason."_

" _It was a set-up! The girl arranged for it to look like this! But you shall not bring up the matter of the child. I cannot have my family name shamed in this manner. You shall tell them it was murder, Grey! Or the mortgage of your mother's little property can be easily transferred to my name. She is old and weak, is she not?"_

" _Do not threaten me, Sir. For all that you say, I shall not lie when a person's life may depend upon it!"_

 _There is a moment of silence. Both parties glare at each other, breathing heavily._

" _You shall regret this," promises Lockwood._

"Dr. Grey, I believe you examined the body. Can you please tell us all, in simple terms if you will, so we all understand, how Miss Phoebe Lockwood's death came to be?"

Dr. Grey speaks slowly and clearly, "Miss Phoebe Lockwood's death was caused due to extensive bleeding from an attempt towards a self-induced abortion. Simply, that means that Miss Lockwood found herself with child and was desperately attempting to rectify the situation, by removing the foetus."

These words, uttered in clear, unemotional tones silences the crowd for once and for all. There is not one whisper to be heard, not one skirt rustles, not one person coughs. People seem to have stopped breathing altogether. Except Tabitha, who seems to have started.

Mister Tobias Fell clears his throat, "And you are absolutely certain it was self-induced? It could not have been performed by another person?"

"I highly doubt it, Sir. It could have been done by another person, perhaps, but from the nature of the wound and the position the object used to cause it was found in, I would say Miss Lockwood herself was responsible. It was clumsy work. If the girl Tabitha is as accomplished a healer as I have heard whispered during my rounds, I doubt it was her work."

"But the possibility cannot be dismissed?"

"No, the possibility is there."

"May I ask if you can inform us to the hour of her death?"

"I was called at four and I examined the body precisely at a quarter past, at which point I would say she had been dead between a half-hour to an hour."

"Between a quarter past three and a quarter to four, then?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey. Your information has been most helpful. I shall take a short reprieve, after which I would like to speak with Mister John Lockwood again." The magistrate rises to his feet and strides out of the room. The crowd remains still silent with shock.

x-x

 **OH MY GOD! That must have been one of the hardest things I have ever written! Especially considering I know nothing beyond the basics of both medicine and law. Not that law today has anything to do with law in the 'nineteenth century in regards slaves'. This chapter may be riddled with holes. I feel like I may have messed up. But, I beg of you all, unless I have made any completely ridiculous points, you will hopefully overlook any small errors that are sure to be there.**

 **Some of you, perhaps many of you, might have an issue with how flimsy Lockwood's cover-up story, and accusations seem to be. I ask you to remember the time this story is set in. Tabitha is, in the eyes of the law, his property. He shouldn't** _ **have**_ **to fight a court case to have her in his power. He shouldn't** _ **have**_ **to convince the magistrate about whether the girl did or did not commit the crime. In those days, the fate of the slave was almost completely in the hands of their owner.**

 **The only reason that things are different here is Elijah. Lockwood is correct, Tobias Fell could not have been less bothered about Tabitha. The only reason he is trying is because of Elijah's power and influence. So, the answer to your possible query? Lockwood was not prepared for how serious this trial would become. He thought it would be a cursory thing before Tabitha was handed over to him to dispose off, the one witness to his daughter's shame that he perhaps could not have shut up with threats. And he was** _ **almost**_ **right. That is what** _ **would**_ **have happened, had the Bennetts not gotten involved.**

 **Sorry for the impossibly long author's note. See you later this week!**

 _ **Sorcière**_ **– 'witch' in French**


	18. Chapter 18

**I am so sorry to all my readers for the long absence. I really did not anticipate it. But matters have been a mess at home for the last few months, with one family crisis after another. But, please know that I** _ **do**_ **intend to finish this story.**

 **Chapter 18**

"Damon, can we go outside for a while? This room is stifling." Bonnie whispers, as soon as the magistrate announces the reprieve. Damon looks at Elijah uncertainly. The latter frowns.

"I am not sure that is a good idea, Bonnie. Things are not going in the expected direction. The townspeople may well be angry at the moment. For _you_ to venture out now..."

"We shall be careful, Papa. We will not venture far. I simply need to go out into the fresh air for a few minutes. I will be called on to speak soon. I _need_ to step out a moment."

Stefan speaks up, "If Damon and I accompany her, she shall be quite safe. A few minutes of fresh air cannot hurt." Elijah looks reluctant, but he finally gives consent.

Bonnie turns to look at the brothers once they are outside the door. They both look strained and she knows it is not completely due to the trial, although that is making everyone anxious. There are clusters of people standing around the courthouse, muttering unhappily. A few of them shoot Bonnie unfriendly looks. She understands why her father was unwilling. If the magistrate acquits Tabitha, the mood will turn ugly. It is a certainty that Tabitha will not be able to continue living in this town. Not without fearing for her life at every turn. What is she to do? How can _she,_ Bonnie, help her? Thoughts churn through her head, making her dizzy. When she glances up at the Salvatores again, Stefan is scowling at Damon.

"What is amiss?" She looks from one to the other. "Something has happened. I could tell from the moment you two arrived. What is it? Has your father found out about me? He is angry? Is that the problem?"

Damon sighs. He does not want to do this here. He wants to support Bonnie completely through this trial. But the truth is, he is at his wit's end. He does not have any idea as to what to do after this. Where to go. Where to stay. He cannot go back to his house. Giuseppe ordered him out and he will _not_ go crawling back. But to tell Bonnie now? It would be another reason for her to worry.

"Damon and our father had a row this morning. Damon refused Giuseppe's order to visit the plantation today and announced his intention to marry you. And our father cast him off. Turned him out of the house."

Bonnie looks to Damon for confirmation, face concerned. He glares at his brother. Stefan shrugs. Damon can see his expression, it says, "she deserves to know. Do not begin this relationship with untruths and falsehoods" before he wanders away a little distance, out of hearing but still keeping an eye on the two of them.

"It is true," Damon confesses. "I was waiting until the end of the trial to tell you. I did not wish to worry you further."

"What shall you do now?"

"For now, help you get through today. As to where I shall stay the next few days, I do not know yet."

Bonnie looks at him uncertainly. She would offer to let him stay at the Bennett Mansion, but she does not know whether that will be received well by him. He has so much pride. All she can do at the moment is draw closer to him and take his arm, squeezing it lightly. She wishes she could embrace him, put her arms around him and draw his head to her shoulder to give him the comfort she knows he needs. But she cannot. There are too many people around them. As she calls to Stefan and begins moving towards the courthouse again, she determines to be a support to him every step of the way. She shall prove old, hateful Giuseppe Salvatore wrong and be a good wife! Why should her skin colour matter?

"Half-breed!" hisses a man in her ear as she passes him in the doorway.

X

"Mr Lockwood," the magistrate pronounces in awful tones. "I am sure you know perfectly well why you have been called up to testify again. Your daughter's ladies maid has made it clear that not only have you told me lies and perjured yourself in this court of law, but that you have coerced innocent and helpless girls in your service to do the same. and although Dr. Grey has not said anything to that effect, I would be surprised if you had not made similar attempts with him as well. Now, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Lockwood knows he has been caught neatly in a trap. He does not look afraid however. No, he is _angry._ He is angry at having been exposed in front of the whole community by a couple of worthless servant girls. He is enraged at the doctor for failing to corroborate his story. Very well, Tabitha might escape with her life from this trial but she will not be going anywhere after that. Does the girl honestly think she can escape his wrath. He shall make certain she ends up as dead as his daughter.

"I did nothing more or less than any man here would have done. I attempted to protect my family's reputation by preventing a needless bit of scandal to come out."

"You call this a needless bit of scandal? A person's life hangs on this. An innocent woman could be condemned to death!"

"Not a person, magistrate. A slave girl. A replaceable one. And far from innocent. She may not have stabbed my daughter in the stomach, as I said before. But she did wield the instrument that caused my poor Phoebe's death. As she herself said, Phoebe was not stupid. She would not have attempted such a dangerous operation herself."

"I know you are grieving, Lockwood, and that it is hard to accept this. But the professional, medical opinion of two people is that your daughter did this herself. And if you do not accept the opinion of the accused, as indeed I do not expect you to do, Dr. Grey has been a practising physician for over two decades. His opinion, you may trust. This does not negate the fact that you lied in a court of law, but for the sake of your recent bereavement, I shall forgive it. But Tabitha's fate is no longer in your hands."

"She is my slave. My property. I have every right to decide what happens to her and to punish her as I see fit. You cannot deny me of that."

"She _is_ you slave, true. And that means that she work for you till she dies or is freed or is sold to someone else. What it does not mean, however, is that she die at your whim. If she is proved innocent, if she is proved to be somewhere else at the time of the murder, you shall not lay a single hand on her. Now, Miss Mara Finch, I would like to call upon you to speak to you."

A young frightened looking girl with an untidy appearance stands up. Her clothes are clean but there is a curious flyaway air about her, from the wisps of hair floating around her head, to the yellowish petticoat showing from beneath her skirts to the two top buttons at the back of her dress that have come undone. Her eyes dart away from the face of the magistrate, flickering here and there. She makes no attempt at eye conduct.

"Miss Finch, is it true that sixteen months ago, you availed yourself of the services of the accused and she helped you get rid of an unwanted baby?"

"Yes..."

"We can of course assume that all things proceeded correctly and there was no accident done to you, seeing that you are standing here, completely hale and hearty?"

"Yes, but you see, Sir...I was not very far along. Only two months."

"Did Tabitha inform you that it would be more dangerous if you were further along?"

"No, she told me she would not do it if I were any further along."

Another loud murmur ripples through the room.

"But I was _not_ and so it was safe and everything went well. And I do not believe Tabitha would be so careless as to make a mistake. She is a good person!" ends Mara defiantly, meeting Mr. Fell's eyes once before looking away again.

"Thank you, Miss Finch, for stepping forward and volunteering to testify. It took great courage on your part. Now, Miss Bennett, if you would please?"

Bonnie gets to her feet and slowly makes her way to the front of the room. She looks up at Mr. Fell, who smiles encouragingly at her. "Tabitha says she saw you and talked to you in the marketplace on the afternoon of this sad event. Can you confirm this?"

"Yes, I can. I stopped her on the street and had a few words with her about her cousin, Maria, who is my ladies maid. She asked me how Maria was getting along. I then asked her about her grandmother. We were in full view. Other people would have seen us."

"Would you happen to remember the time?"

"I remember the church clock had just struck three in the afternoon, moments before I called out to her. We would have spoken perhaps fifteen minutes."

"So, she would still have had time to go straight home and do the deed after your conversation?"

"I suppose she would have had. The Lockwood place is not far from the market. But, I can assure you Tabitha did not have the look of someone who was planning a murder in a few minutes time."

"Liar!"calls out Richard Lockwood suddenly, startling everyone in the now silent courtroom. "This woman is a liar and a cheat and certainly not to be trusted! Can you not see the fallacy that a half-breed woman should be the only one who can vouch for the innocence of the murderer. Of course she would alibi her! They are all in coalition. If we are not all careful, we shall find knives slipped into our backs by our own slaves! The very people _we_ feed and clothe!"

" _Silence!"_ roars Mr. Fell and gestures to his men. "Escort Mr. Lockwood's son outside the courthouse this very minute and do not allow him back in till the proceedings are over. And _you_ shall apologise to the lady at the end of all of this. I shall make sure of it."

The magistrate's steps come too late. Whispers have broken out again and malevolent looks are thrown in Bonnie's direction. A woman mutters "demon spawn" and a man sneers at her as another shouts out, "If she is a lady, what was she doing alone at the marketplace, unaccompanied by a maid? Arranging clandestine meetings, I reckon!"

Bonnie clenches her hands together in her skirts, casting a look in Damon's direction to see Stefan holding him back from leaping up and breaking some bones. She shoots him a stern look, throws back her head and answers the magistrate's next question about being alone at the marketplace with as much dignity as she can muster.

"I was unaccompanied by my maid, it is true. I get frustrated at my house sometimes. My guardians are overprotective, precisely because of behaviour like this. At times, I simply need to get away. To breathe. I went to the marketplace because I was expecting a letter. My being alone and unaccompanied has nothing to do with this case. As I said, we were in full view. I refuse to believe I was the only one who noticed Tabitha that day."

"Thank you, Miss Bennett. You may be seated."

Mr. Fell next calls on the Cook, who confirms the story that she had indeed sent Tabitha to the marketplace. She recalls Tabitha returning with the desired items at a quarter to four and being reprimanded for being late, upon which she had said Miss Bonnie had engaged her in conversation. Mr. Fell looks grim at the mention of the exact time, as it still somehow leaves holes in Tabitha's alibi. The fruit-seller stands up next.

His first assertion that he does not remember Tabitha is an exceptionally transparent lie. "A lot of those girls come to me. I do not remember this girl in particular."

"We must be thinking of different markets then, man. Because I certainly do not remember a lot of slave girls roaming free in the marketplace. Rather, I think their numbers are so few, I would especially remember a slave girl buying my goods at a time when there aren't too many customers. What do you think?"

"I think you and I are different men, Sir, and that I cannot remember?"

"Indeed? And what if I tell you I have a witness who saw you expressly call Tabitha by name and comment that she usually visits your shop much earlier in the day? That he also saw you see her speaking to Miss Bennett, thus corroborating her story? Should I call him out? He is the next and last witness."

The fruit-seller sweats copiously for a few minutes, until self-preservation gets the better of his prejudice. Then he breaks down and admits it. Tabitha _is_ a regular customer, especially memorable since she is slave allowed to roam free. She _had_ visited him at approximately fifteen minutes past three on that day, after having concluded her conversation with Miss Bennett and had returned home after buying a large quantity of fruits and having had a peep at a trade-man's richly embroidered shawls from the Eastern markets.

At last, Mr, Fell's last witness, who turns out to be a newspaper-boy, is called out and he confirms the entire story. Bonnie slumps in her seat in relief but nobody else relaxes. Judgement is yet to be pronounced and there is absolutely no saying what Mr. Fell might decide. On the one hand, no slave has ever been acquitted in a trial of this kind, especially one charged with so serious a crime as murder. But on the other, the magistrate's impartiality in this particular case has been clearly noted. And nobody is under any doubts as to who the driving force behind that may be. This is not a case to decide the guilt or innocence of one young girl. This is a war between two of the most influential families of the region. If Elijah does get his way and the girl is freed, how long will it be before she falls prey to some tragic 'accident'?

Prejudice and fear are powerful things. For the last few weeks they had been whipping the people of the town into a seething, roiling mass of inflamed emotions, culminating in some horrific incidents. What happens to Tabitha will decide a lot of things. If she is allowed to go free, Elijah is afraid it will be no less of a death sentence than the alternative. But he had made a promise to himself to help the girl, an innocent victim being sacrificed to Lockwood's mad selfishness and he _shall_ see it through. But for Bonnie's sake, he fears the madness and frenzy that shall descend once Fell's decision is made. When the magistrate meets his eyes worriedly, he realises that the same fear dwells in his mind. But Tobias Fell is a good man and above all, an honest man, and so Elijah knows what his decision will be before he opens his mouth.

"Tabitha, will you stand before this court and swear that you had nothing to do with the death of Phoebe Lockwood and that you are innocent?"

Tabitha rises to her feet and turns to face the crowd. Her face and arms still bear cuts and scars from the damage done by the glass. And she too knows, that in this moment she is signing her life away just as surely as if she had pled guilty. But she says, "I swear it."

"Then I pronounce you innocent of this alleged crime. You are free to leave."

In the dead silence that follows, a baby starts crying.

X

The room has been emptied of a mixture of stunned, horrified spectators and those shouting obscenities at Tabitha, at the magistrate, at Bonnie. At Lockwood's own servant girls, unable to keep up with their master's lies. The only people still standing in the room are Elijah and Mr. Fell, the doctor, Bonnie and the Salvatore brothers. Tabitha stays still at one corner of a window, gaze directed outwards at a crowd whose mood has turned very sour. Mara Finch and the little newspaper-boy had cleverly slipped away before the pronouncement but the fruit-seller stands outside, attempting to reason with the other enraged vendors. Apparently, even being forced to tell the truth by the magistrate makes him a traitor in their books. John and Richard Lockwood had left without a word, but their silence fools Tabitha not a bit. But the trial has left her drained. She cannot even dredge up the will to be afraid for her life. Maybe, she should simply walk out into the arms of the crowd outside. Everybody would be happier, and no one else need get hurt. Not Clementine or Denise, or the good doctor, or Mara or the boy. Certainly not Miss Bonnie or Mister Bennett. Tabitha would not have been able to bear their getting hurt.

Something touches her arm and she jumps, startled. Miss Bonnie looks at her in concern. "I apologise if I frightened you, Tabitha. I simply wanted to tell you, it has been decided that you shall come to our house to stay until we can decide what is to be done with you. Your grandmother is there. Do not worry. Papa shall make sure you are both safe."

"And you, Miss?" Tabitha whispers, looking up at the pretty young lady, so similar in circumstances to her but with the one difference that her father's people had accepted her, whereas Tabitha's own father had run away, far, far away, on hearing the news. "Will you be safe?"

Bonnie appears to consider this question for a moment, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. When she does answer, her eyes are sad. "No, not at the moment. Nor will anyone who took part in the trial, I expect. Fear is such a potent thing, you see. And what is different is always frightening. Everyone who was here now knows you did not do it, but this has served to remind them that you could have. Al the other slaves could. Everyone of us who are not like them could suddenly rise in rebellion and they would not be as safe as they believed themselves to be. It is the possibilities they fear, not you. But you are the threat that has reminded them and so they delude themselves into thinking they will be safe if they remove that threat."

"Bonnie, dear...It is time to leave," Elijah calls.

"You are to leave through the side-door. Mr. Fell's men and Stefan Salvatore shall accompany you and bring you to the Bennett House. We shall speak later, Tabitha. There shall be plenty of time at home." Miss Bonnie turns, takes her father's arm, and with one last backward look, walks out of the front doors. The crowd hisses at them, getting louder when the magistrate steps forward to speak.

"Tabitha shall be remaining in the courthouse for the night, with my men standing guard, in case there is any kind of foul-play. I suggest you take yourselves home tonight and reflect rationally on the proceedings of the day and you shall realise there is nothing to fear."

She does not hear anymore as she is silently and secretly led out from a little known side-door and taken to a small carriage, into which Stefan Salvatore hands her and she is raced away from the nightmare she had spent the better part of two weeks in.

X

That very night, the courthouse is burnt to the ground.

x-x

 **There might be grammatical mistakes in this chapter. I did not have time for a very through check. But I wanted to get this out just to let my readers know that I have not given up on the story. It should be coming to an end in a couple of chapters and I have every intention of finishing it. I do not know when I will be able to update next, but I sure hope people are still reading.**


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